LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



a,.—. 



Shelf 



..ES3TY 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



PREACHING CHRIST 



SERMONS 



BY THE 



Rev. Llewelyn Ioan Evans, D.D., LL.D. 

Twenty -Nine Years Professor in Lane Seminary \ 



With a Sketch of His Life 

BY 

HENRY PRESERVED SMITH, D.D. 




New York : 
THE CHRISTIAN LITERATURE CO. 

1893. 



&3F7 



[THE LIBRARY 

Or C ONG RESS 

yAtHiypTOif 



Copyright, 1893, BY 
The Christian Literature Co. 






TO 
RAY LLEWELYN EVANS 

THESE MEMORIALS OF HIS HONORED, BELOVED AND 
SAINTED FATHER ARE AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED. 

S. E. E. 



CONTENTS. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

CHAPTER. PAGE. 

I. Early Years , i 

II. Theology and Preaching 17 

III. Exegesis 31 

IV. Home and Social Life 44 

V. Closing Years 52 

Note 68 

SERMONS. 

I. Faith, Hope, Love 69 

II. Strength 88 

III. Completeness 105 

IV. Cheerfulness in Giving 119 

V. The New Commandment 133 

VI. Living Water : 148 

VII. Forgetting the Things which are Behind 164 

VIII. The Disciples' Ambit : on 177 

IX. The Christian's Debt 202 

X. Endurance 221 

XI. A Thanksgiving Sermon 237 

XII. The Tests of Christianity 268 

XIII. Not Rich Toward God 290 

XIV. Prayer 307 

XV. Christ Revealing the Father 324 

XVI. The Youth of Christ 340 

XVII. Bearing Each Other's Burdens 350 

Preaching Christ 365 



PREFACE. 



At my request, Dr. Henry Preserved Smith has prepared 
this sketch of my husband's life, and arranged the sermons 
for the press. There was especial fitness in this, because 
Dr. Smith was for three years the pupil of Dr. Evans, and 
the tie which binds the earnest student to the inspiring 
instructor early became very strong. The friendship thus 
begun, was strengthened by nineteen years of affectionate 
intercourse as members of the same Faculty of instruction. 
Their kindred pursuits — both being students of the Scrip- 
tures — drew them more nearly together, and in their studies 
they developed similar views on the points of theology, so 
much debated in late years. They stood side by side in 
defending the rights of scholarly investigation of the Book 
they both loved, and their common experiences at this time 
made them esteem each other all the more, and increased 
their affection as it increased their intimacy. I wish here to 
express my thanks to Dr. Smith for the manner in which he 
has discharged his sacred duty, and to those who assisted 
him in the preparation of the volume. 

In accordance with my desire, the sermons are reproduced 
just as they were delivered, and as they are contained in the 
manuscripts. Had my husband lived to see them through 
the press, he might have made changes or corrections. This 
fact should be borne in mind in case any reader discovers 
what seems to him faulty in arrangement or punctuation. 

SARAH E. EVANS. 
August 24, 1893. 



LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 



EARLY YEARS. 



Dr. Evans was the son of the Rev. Edward T. Evans, 
and was born at Treuddyn, near Mold, North Wales, 
June 27, 1833. His mother, Mary E, Roberts, was a 
daughter of the Rev. Robert Roberts, a prominent 
minister in the Welsh Calvinistic Methodist Church. 
His paternal grandfather, Mr. Thomas Evans, was a 
prominent elder in the same denomination. The fol- 
lowing notices are translated from the Welsh biogra- 
phy of the celebrated minister, the Rev. John Jones.* 
It should be premised that the period was one of great 
agitation in the denomination. The adoption of a Con- 
fession of Faith was warmly discussed. The older min- 
isters and elders were High Calvinists and endeavored 
to bring the more moderate party into subjection by 
discipline. The Rev. Robert Roberts and Mr. Thomas 
Evans were of the liberal party. On account of their 
expressed opposition to the measures of the majority 
both were called to account in Presbytery and Synod. 
The investigation ended in their favor and their vindi- 



* I owe these notices to the kindness of the Rev. E. C. Evans, 
of Remsen, N. Y., by whom the translation is made. 

(1) 



2 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

cation led to a more liberal policy in the denomination 
at large. 

"This preaching tour [of the Rev. John Jones] proved 
to be an important event in his life. For it was on this 
tour that he met for the first time personally the Rev. 
Robert Roberts of Tan-y-clawdd, the Rev. John Hughes 
of Liverpool, and Mr. Thomas Evans, Maes-y-coed, 
Caerwyss, who, from this time, became his most inti- 
mate friends and so continued to the close of his life. 
These gentlemen exerted a great influence on his views 
of Gospel truth. They differed greatly from each other 
in mental characteristics as in natural disposition, but 
they were intimate friends and they were in accord in 
holding more liberal views of the plan of redemption 
than many of their brethren. This was distinctly true 
with reference to some in their own presbytery, and 
hence the three were regarded by many as not being 
'sound in doctrine.' 

' ' The Rev. Robert Roberts was a man of great men- 
tal ability, an excellent Welsh scholar, and remarkably 
well versed in Celtic archaeology. He was of a philo- 
sophical turn of mind, delighting in metaphysical in- 
quiries, and too ready, perhaps, to bring such questions 
into the pulpit as well as into conversation with people 
not conversant with such themes. He had studied care- 
fully the writings of Jonathan Edwards in the edition 
containing the notes of Dr. Williams. He had mastered 
thoroughly the works of Dr. Williams himself. For a 
considerable part of his life he was a faithful disciple 
of Dr. Williams, fully adopting his views. Not satis- 
fied with this, he went so far as to believe them not 
only to be of the greatest importance but to be the 
only secure ground from which to oppose Arminianism. 
In his later years, however, he had come to regard with 
doubt some of these views. He doubted in particular 
whether Dr. Williams assigned the Gospel and the 
Word their proper and important place as the means 
of regeneration. Still he held to the truth of Calvin- 
ism. But while strongly opposed to Arminianism on 
one hand, he was uncompromisingly against High Cal- 



EARLY YEARS. 3 

vinism on the other, observing frequently that these 
two agreed in shifting man's obligation and responsi- 
bility from their true and proper place, making them 
rest on God's grace. He met High Calvinists more 
frequently than Arminians, and hence came oftener 
into collision with them — though equally opposed to 
both. Possibly he was not always happy in the man- 
ner in which he expressed and defended his views. As 
one friend said of him : in one sermon he would appear 
more Calvinistic than others, while in the next, per- 
haps, his views would seem to border on Arminianism. 

"Mr. Roberts was acknowledged by all who knew 
him to be a very godly man — an unusually godly man. 
In his last years he grew more tender and sympathetic 
in his feelings and in affection for his brethren, coming 
to be regarded by them in turn with reverence and af- 
fection. He died August 14, 1849, at tne a £ e °f 75 
years, having preached the Gospel forty-nine years. 

"The other friend referred to was Mr. Thomas Evans. 
He was not a minister but an elder at Caerwyss, serving 
efficiently and faithfully for a long term of years. His 
personal piety, his extensive and thorough knowledge 
of the Holy Scriptures, and especially his extraordinary 
gift of religious discourse and devotional expression, 
rendered his services exceedingly valuable to the church. 
Being regarded in every circle of society in which he 
moved as one of the wisest, keenest, and godliest of 
men, he attained to great influence in the Presbytery to 
which he belonged, and also in the General Synod. In 
acquaintance with the theological writers of the period 
(Edwards, Bellamy, Dwight, Williams, Fuller, and 
others) hardly one among the old ministers was equal 
to him, certainly not one surpassed him. He entered 
upon this line of study when about eighteen years of 
age and pursued it steadily and faithfully for over sixty 
years. Yet he bound himself slavishly to no author. 
He tested all he read by the standard of the Holy 
Word, and felt free to take exception to his favorite 
authors if he thought they had forsaken the teaching 
of the Word of God. 'A certain brother told me (he 
said once) that the Wesleyan Confession of Faith is: 



4 LLEWEYLN IOAN EVANS. 

1 Every word that proceedeih from the month of fohn 
Wesley ; but I would rather have no system at all than 
one in which there is no room for every word that 
proceedeth from the mouth of God. 1 Because of his 
broad views and fidelity to the truth, he frequently ex- 
ercised great influence in behalf of his friends. " 

Thomas Evans published late in life a small volume 
on theology, a summary of Christian doctrine for lay- 
men. In this he alludes to the theological strifes 
through which he had passed. He says that the zeal 
of the Calvinistic party against Arminianism led in 
many minds to hyper-calvinism, even to antinomianism. 
The mercy of God, however, had raised up ministers 
who were able to preach the unrestricted fullness of the 
Gospel. "Some of us (he adds) had the honor of 
suffering a little for about twenty years on account of 
our comprehensive opinions on the doctrine of the 
Atonement, and that from some brethren who were 
very dear to us. And the reason we were so patient 
was that we believed they were acting conscientiously 
according to their light, and that their zeal was in ad- 
vance of their knowledge." He then gives an account 
of his own efforts to get at the truth. This is in the 
introduction to his little treatise which is entitled 
" Theological Meditations, or Remarks on the Con- 
sistency of the Doctrine of the Gospel." The order of 
the chapters is that ordinarily followed in treatises in 
divinity, but the fact that its interest is practical rather 
than speculative, is seen especially in the last chapter, 
which is an appeal to the unconverted, 

An extract * in Prof. Evans' own handwriting from a 
Welsh work on Methodism in Wales, gives some further 
account of his grandfather Roberts. From it we learn 



* Kindly translated for me by the Rev. J. H.^ Griffith, now of 
Cincinnati; 



EARLY YEARS. 5 

that his family were much opposed to Methodism. Mr. 
Roberts, however, was very earnest in his Christian life, 
abandoned all frivolous pursuits, established family 
worship in the home, notwithstanding his father's op- 
position, and entered the ministry in spite of many 
obstacles. 

The recently published biography of the Rev. Henry 
Rees, one of the most renowned of Welsh preachers, 
contains an account of an important Association held at 
Hanfyllin, in 1823. The subject under discussion was 
the adoption of a Confession of Faith. When the 
article on Redemption was read, "Mr. Robert Roberts 
rose and made a strong attack upon the restriction con- 
tained in the words 'and they [the elect] only.' He 
called it ' an unscriptural restriction ' and charged the 
article with ' being wise above what is written. ' Those 
who favored the article, led by the venerable and in- 
fluential John Elias, contended that the article was 
simply an abridgment of one adopted many years 
earlier, in Bala. Mr. Roberts, however, argued that 
the words were only a partial statement of the earlier 
article — for there was in that a distinct testimony to 
the all-sufficiency of the atonement, even for those who 
were not saved by means of it. This testimony had 
been left out of the new article altogether. ' So, having 
taken from us (he said) our old Confession in the liberal 
article of the Church of England, this leaves us without 
any declaration of our faith in the all-sufficiency of 
the atonement for the whole world.' He spoke power- 
fully and to such effect that the discussion was post- 
poned to a following Association."* 

* Abridged from a translation kindly made by the Rev. J. H. 
Griffith. When Dr. Evans read this account of his grandfather, 
not long before his death, he remarked : "Am I not proud of the 
old man !" 



6 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

The Rev. Edward T. Evans (the father of Professor 
Evans) was of less pronounced individuality than the 
two grandfathers. He was of a very retiring disposition, 
so that comparatively few were admitted to his in- 
timacy. Those who had that privilege were much 
charmed by his unaffected piety joined to refinement 
and sweetness of temper. He was an indefatigable 
student, and an earnest Evangelical preacher. He was 
settled at Racine, Wisconsin, and at Newark, Ohio, 
having preached also in Wales. Some of the revival 
seasons through which his churches passed, are still 
remembered by his associates. He died in 1881, hav- 
ing passed his seventy-fourth birthday. 

Llewelyn inherited through his mother the poetical 
temperament of his grandfather Roberts. It was the 
mother's custom to spend an hour daily in prayer for 
and with her children, and this piety also early showed 
its fruit in the son. When quite a lad, he used to 
lead family worship. When visiting his grandfather 
Evans, it was his custom to gather the mill hands to- 
gether, read the Scriptures and lead them in prayer 
before the day's work began. This early piety had, 
however, nothing forced or unnatural about it, nor was 
it associated with anything morbid in his disposition. 
For his disposition was bright and sunny, and his in- 
terest already went out towards all innocent activities. 
Intellectually he early gave promise of his future. 
John Davies, Esq., the Mayor of Carnarvon, writes 
that when the family came to Bangor, in 1846, Llewelyn 
(then in his thirteenth year) at once became a leader 
among the boys. He was made secretary of the 
Literary Society and also of a theological class. A 
report made by him on a sermon he had heard on 
" Original Sin," is still in existence. Mr. Davies also 
alludes to the mother's influence, saying: "The family 



EARLY YEARS. 7 

atmosphere was spiritual in every sense of the word. 
After family devotions were over in the morning, Mrs. 
Evans catechized the children and cautioned them as 
to their conduct in the course of the day." 

At thirteen years of age the youth was sent to Bala 
college, where he spent three years. He at once be- 
came prominent for his intellectual brilliancy and for 
his physical activity. Dr. Edwards alludes to his early 
feat of walking upon the railing of the church gallery — 
a feat which none of his companions were willing to 
attempt. One of his schoolmates says of hirn : 
"Although so young, he was the most brilliant student 
of the college. He had an insatiable thirst for knowl- 
edge, combined with an intellect of great acuteness, 
and a most retentive memory. His perception of truth 
was wonderfully quick, suggestive of instinct or in- 
tuition. And he was even then a very fluent speaker, 
full of wit and humor, the life of every company. I 
could not but wonder at the extent and range of his 
reading at that early period. He seemed to be con- 
versant with all things most worth reading in the whole 
range of English literature." * He was of course even 
more at home in the Welsh language. For during 
his stay at Bala he published poems in Welsh which 
attracted the attention of the whole principality. It is 
said that no student ever made such an impression 
upon both professors and pupils. This came out in a 
humorous incident, still a part of Bala tradition. On 
the playground, one day, young Evans, then but thir- 
teen years of age, small for his age and very active, 
leaped upon the back of a large lumbering student 
named J. The general sentiment was voiced by one 
who called out: "J ! keep that head on your shoulders 
— as long as you keep that head you will have brains." 

* Letter of G. Parry, Esq. 



8 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

He was called by his schoolmates "the Little Gre- 
cian." The lady in whose house he lodged says that 
he was so full of life that while learning his lessons 
he would be running and cantering about the room in- 
stead of sitting down to his books like other boys. 

Three years were spent at Bala. But the boy was 
restless, longing for a larger sphere of activity. His 
associates still remember the enthusiasm with which he 
turned towards this country. He frequently asserted 
that Britain's sun was set, and that the country which 
would control the destinies of the world was the "great 
Republic of the West." So earnest was he in preach- 
ing this doctrine in the family that he was really the 
moving cause of their coming to this country. On the 
eve of their departure from Bangor a large meeting 
was held "where the young aspirant was presented 
with several volumes of books, addresses were de- 
livered, poetry recited," some of it composed for the 
occasion. Such marked honor paid to a boy sixteen 
years of age shows well the esteem in which he was 
already held. Well known Welsh poets had already 
hailed him as their comrade. 

The family reached Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in Sep- 
tember, 1850, and, soon after, the Rev. E. T. Evans 
became pastor of the Welsh Church of Racine. The 
son entered Racine College, receiving the degree of 
B. S. in 1854, and that of A. B. in 1856. His intel- 
lectual activity during these years was as marked as in 
the old country. He was an earnest speaker on behalf 
of temperance and the Sunday School work. He took 
the lead in musical and literary organizations, and was 
founder of the Welsh Literary Society in Racine. It 
was mainly through his efforts that the Welsh National 
Literary Association was held for the first time in the 
West This I suppose to be the Eisteddfodd of 1856, 



EARLY YEARS. 9 

from which one of his manuscript poems *is dated. 
His poem on the Victory of the Cross, which took the 
first prize in 1857, is said to be equal to anything in 
the Welsh language. Several poems in English were 
written during his college course, and specimens will 
be published in the volume of Essays and Addresses 
now in preparation. During his college course he suf- 
fered sore bereavement in the death of his sister, to 
whom he was tenderly attached, and within a year from 
that event his mother also was called away. 

The year of graduation from college was the year of 
the first national campaign of the Republican party, 
with Fremont as its candidate for the presidency. Young 
Evans, already a well known and popular speaker, took 
the stump on behalf of the new party. The ticket 
was defeated in the country at large, but its orator in 
Wisconsin was elected a member of the State legisla- 
ture. Although the youngest member of the body, he 
soon became one of its leading spirits, and was made 
chairman of its important committee of education. He 
served but one term, however, finding the climate too 
severe for his health. Early in 1857 ne accepted an 
appointment on the editorial staff of the Cincinnati 
Gazette, and removed to this city. 

The thought of the Christian ministry as his true 
calling was one which came to him frequently. He 
had been consecrated by his mother to this work at his 
birth. But he often said to her: "dearly as I love 
you, I can not decide to study for the ministry, unless 
I hear the call in my own heart." Of his intellectual 
difficulties on some points of theology, we shall hear 
later. The conviction that the ministry was his work, 
came strongly upon him in Cincinnati. Possibly he 
was led to think more seriously of it by the influence of 
Professor D. Howe Alien, long a beloved professor in 



10 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

Lane Seminary. It is known that before entering the 
seminary he had at least one important interview with 
Dr. Allen. The result was that in the Fall of 1857 
Llewelyn Evans was enrolled as a student in Lane 
Seminary. This was, of course, a decisive step in the 
bearing upon his life work. 

Before entering upon the history of his seminary 
course, it may be well to speak briefly of his abandon- 
ment of Welsh literature. As we have seen he had 
early attained a distinguished place among his country- 
men both here and in his native country. Besides his 
poem on the Victory of the Cross, he published one 
on Time, one entitled A Pastoral Song, and one on 
Martyrdom. The last named took the first prize at the 
Utica Eisteddfodd. These received high praise from 
the most competent critics. The judge to whom the 
poems competing at one Eisteddfodd were sent for ad- 
judication — himself a poet of high reputation — said : 
"the poets of the old country must look to their 
laurels." Another critic praised highly the " originality, 
profundity, scholarship, taste and beauty " of Dr. 
Evans' poem. Dr. Evans' Welsh prose was also 
highly appreciated. His essay on the ' ' Value of Ed- 
ucation," which first appeared in this country, was 
republished in Wales, where it attracted wide attention. 
The editor who introduced it there thought it probably 
not altogether to the taste of his readers, because too 
original. He advised his readers, therefore, "if they 
find it too American, to read it a second time," and 
they will find its good points. He finds in it the 
"union of philosopher and poet," as well as "the 
fiery zeal of a young writer following his subject to its 
logical conclusion." Other contributions of Dr. Evans 
to Welsh newspapers and magazines are remembered 
as characterized by life and freshness. 



EARLY YEARS. II 

After the publication of the poem on the Victory of 
the Cross, the author was attacked by an unsuccessful 
competitor, and, later, an extended criticism of the 
poem appeared signed "Lover of Poetry." The 
charge against the author was that he plagiarized from 
Milton. The poem was criticized for its alleged faults 
of metre and violations of good taste. In the year 
1858, Dr. Evans published a pamphlet reply to these 
critics entitled "Crach Feirniadeath, " or "Sham Crit- 
icism." In this he not only defends himself against 
the charges made, but expounds at length the princi- 
ples of criticism and of literary composition, the laws 
of verse and the nature of plagiarism. That the de- 
fense was successful may be inferred from the fact that 
no rejoinder was made. The incident is of especial 
interest to us here, because it was the occasion of the 
author's giving up Welsh literature. The pamphlet 
concluded with a farewell to the Welsh muse, which 
gives us a vivid perception of the writer's state of feel- 
ing, and which I therefore quote at length.* 

"But, in conclusion, I have allowed myself to write 
more at length than I would have written had I not 
resolved that this shall be my last contest on the field 
of Welsh literature. Let Lover of Poetry, with his 
Falstaffian host, take notice that I am determined to 
wage this one through to the bitter end; but ever after- 
ward I will let Welsh ' lovers of poetry ' alone. I have 
always been proud that I was a Welshman, and I shall 
continue to be so as long as there is a drop of Welsh 
blood in my veins. I never permitted a proper oppor- 
tunity to pass without doing what I could to exalt my 
countrymen, everywhere and in every kind of assembly, 
as hundreds of citizens in the West can testify. I had 
a dream once that I might possibly be of some service 



* The translation was kindly sent me by G. H. Humphrey, 
Esq., of Utica, N. Y. 



12 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

to the literature and to the advancement of my country- 
men. 

'%But earth has bubbles as the water hath, 
And this was of them.' 

That dream has vanished. It may be that after some 
centuries have elapsed it will be easier for men of sim- 
ilar aspirations to realize such dreams than it now is. 
But, unfortunately, there are too many * Lovers of 
Poetry,' of 'Leading Men of Our Nation' and of 
'Unprejudiced Men,' among the Welsh people of 
to-day. The knowledge of these persons is immense! 
Their taste is worthy of Apollo ! Their judgment 
worthy of Longinus ! Their politeness worthy of Ches- 
terfield ! Their veracity worthy of Washington ! And 
their sentence worthy of Rhadamanthus himself! There 
is no higher court in the Welsh world to appeal to, and 
this has found me guilty. I sink into the nonentity that 
becomes me. I will retire and make room for others 
worthier of their favor. Let no one mistake my mo- 
tive. I know that life is a battle, and that it is unmanly 
to succumb before obstacles and opposition. But I 
hope in the name of Reason that there are worthier 
things to fight against than carping pigmies, sham 
critics, sham literates, sham grammarians, sham poets 
and sham preachers, with the hordes of Blockheadism 
and Stupidity behind them — against which it is said 
even the gods are powerless. ' In our wide world there 
is but one altogether fatal personage — the Dunce!' says 
Carlyle. But as Swift says : 

' On me when dunces are satiric 
I take it for a panegyric ; 
Hated by fools, and fools to hate, 
Be that my motto and my fate.' 

" If obscurity and nonentity are my place, let me be 
consigned to them by men who know what poetry is. 
If I am a plagiarist I appeal to a public which knows 
what that means, and to a people that will at least do 
justice. I leave my Welsh compositions to their fate. I 
authorize ' Lover of Poetry ' and his army of ' Famous 
Men ' and ' Leading Men ' to collect them, cast them 



EARLY YEARS. I 3 

into the fire, scatter them to the four winds of heaven 
and destroy them from the land of the living. But let 
them do their worst — they can not take away the hap- 
piness of the hours in which they were composed. 
They can not deprive me of the joy with which I wel- 
comed the visit of these visions to the chamber of my 
mind — 

' That turned me cold 

And pale and voiceless, leaving in the brain 

A rocking and a ringing glorious.' 

They never can dry up some tears that are treasured in 
the bottle of the muse — 

' Such glorious tears as Eve's fair daughters shed, 
When first they clasped a son of God all bright, 
With burning plumes and splendors of the sky, 
In zoning heaven of their milky arms.' 

"Fare thee well, Welsh Muse! Muse of my mother's 
tongue! We have spent some sweet hours together — 
may they be sacred in the cemetery of the past. My mind 
wanders there in the night watches. A tear drops on their 
graves, welling up with the groan from a disappointed 
heart* My soul holds yearning mute communion with 
their spirits in the divine light of the stars. A blessing 
upon thee, venerable Muse of Wales! In thy departure 
from me go and visit others. Solace them with a solace 
greater than that which thou didst pour into my heart. 
Teach them to sing thy mysteries better than I learned 
to sing them. May their hopes not be blasted by a 
cold and cruel blast from any quarter ! May their good 
name not be tarnished by the foul breath of slander and 
libel ! May their hearts not be pierced by the stabs ot 
envy ! Never, never, may they be dragged without 
cause and against their will into disputes that will embit- 
ter their souls, and send their good angel far away from 
them ! Never may the inviolability of their word be 
questioned ! Never may their motives in yielding to 
thine inspiration be suspected ! Never may they be 
disappointed by false friends, and may their confidence 



* Literally, "A tear is shaken on the graves by the groan 
(sigh) from a disappointed heart." 



14 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

in men never be shaken ! Never may their sincere de- 
sire to serve thee be considered a crime ! Success be 
upon all they do and say ! May their words fall into the 
hearts of men as wine goes into the lips of him that is 
ready to perish ! May they become household words ! 
May they be taught by the mother to her child ! May 
they be whispered by the youth to his beloved ! May 
they lighten the heart of the sad, make serious the 
mirth of the merry, and lead to beauty, virtue and hap- 
piness ! May their life be like a sunny day, and their 
departure like a cloudless sunset! May their path lie 
among flowers and roses and not among thorns and 
briers ! May their names be blessed, may they be trans- 
mitted from father to son throughout the generations 
of Gomer's race, and may they be embalmed forever in 
the memory of a grateful nation! Fare thee well, an- 
cient muse of my Fathers ! Not without tears — once 
and forever: Farewell !" 

It is not difficult to read between the lines here. 
The young poet had been stung by the nature of the 
polemic waged against him. Full of the highest as- 
pirations, the warmest devotion to literature, he had 
found himself misunderstood and misjudged. He came 
to the quick resolve to abandon so ungrateful a soil. 
His powers might be employed where they would re- 
sult in more than criticism and quarrel. He would 
turn to that larger field. But this resolution was occa- 
sioned, not caused, by the immediate situation. Young 
Evans had been early impressed by the greatness of this 
country. He had now become acquainted with its 
opportunities, and had determined where his own work 
lay. The one thing he was to do stood out clearly be- 
fore him. The painful experience with his critics prob- 
ably crystallized an already forming resolution. That 
resolution was to turn from the many interests which 
had claimed him in the past in order to devote himself 
more thoroughly to his direct mission. That he was a 
favorite not only of the Welsh muse, but also of her 



EARLY YEARS. 15 

English sister, is evident from the following — one of 
his poems from his college course: 

JUNE. 

Come Juno of the year and Goddess-Queen, 
Walking with regal pride the months between, 
Beclothed in thronal robes of darkest green, 

That fall behind like clouds auroral flowing ; 
Of deeper beauty, ripelier blown than May, 
Nor bronzed like August by the scorching ray, 
Nor crimsoned by the kiss of Winter gray 

But deep with life's intensest splendor glowing! 

Come sweeping through the great Olympian hall, 
'Mong its majestic forest pillars tall 
Trailing behind thine ample-spreading pall, 

With brightest leaves and flowers interwoven. 
Raining thy smiles of most maternal love 
On the divinities of vale and grove, 
Whose eyes like glimpses of the blue above, 

Sparkle among the leaves by breezes moven. 

I love thee, June, whene'er thou walkest forth, 
For it was thou, who ushered in my birth ; 
'Twas in thy smile I first beheld the earth, 

In thy hand took the infant steps of being ! 
And once, in age and gladsomeness a boy, 
Alas that Time should both so soon destroy! 
I looked upon thee with a face all joy, 

And only felt delight thy presence seeing. 

I read no sorrow in thy tender eye, 

No shade of sadness on thy brow did lie: 

I laughed upon thee with the jollity 

Of a child fondled by his mother dear 
And playing with the tresses of her hair, 
And clinging to her lips with loving air ; 
Thus once did I hang on thy face so fair, 

And nestle in thy bosom without fear. 

Thus was it once ; but, ah ! 'tis thus no more ! 

I love thee still but with a bosom sore, 

And thou, methinks, seemst sadder than of yore, 

Thy beauty and thy smiles seem touched with sorrow. 
Thy comings unto me have been of late, 
Dark visitations of a cruel fate 
For death did hither on thy footsteps wait, 

And chill me with eternity's cold shadow. 

Thrice hast thou come and gone — like yesterday, 
It seems — since thou my sister bore away ; 
My only sister — more I can not say. 

My being's half was gone : I had no other. 



1 6 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

Yet, still, one joy remained, and heaven I blest, 
One spot there was where my sad heart might rest, 
And there I flew like birdling to its nest, 
I had a home, for still I had a mother. 

But now she too is gone with thee, and I — 
My nest is scattered — whither shall I fly ? 
The scathing bolt has fallen from on high, 

Has struck and caused my bowery home to wither. 
My leafy joys have tripped away and now 
I stand upon the stripped and blackened bough, 
And shudder in the chilling winds that blow, 

And fain would weakly fly away— but whither ? 

E'en now a blast cold as the grave doth come, 

And whisper like a wail of death from some 

Lone mocking demon : ' Wretch ! thou hast no home ! ' 

No home! What echoes of despair awaken! 
No sister's answering glance of feelingness ! 
No mother's all-in-all of lovingness, 
Nor endless forms of winningness ! 

I have no home ! "lis desolate, forsaken. 

Yet June, I love thee still, for thou dost seem 
Full of divinest pities which do gleam 
Within thy glances as in childhood's dream 

Those that- around the dying Jesus hover, 
And with thy'heaven-sent dewy calms would heal 
The creeping blight that o'er my heart doth steal, 
And in thine azure eye of love reveal 

A full infinite heaven bending over. 

These verses are dated June 27, 1855, the author's 
twenty-second birthday. They give us a glimpse into 
the wealth of feeling in his heart, and show the sober- 
ing effect of recent afflictions. As his life-work became 
more absorbing he paid less attention to poetry, though 
occasionally throughout life the old fire would break 
forth. 



II. 

THEOLOGY AND PREACHING. 

Lane Seminary, founded nearly thirty years before 
this time, was in 1857 manned by three professors of 
distinguished ability and scholarship. Of these the 
first in influence was Dr. D. Howe Allen, then occu- 
pying the chair of systematic theology. Dr. Allen 
was especially attractive to young men by his sympa- 
thetic insight into the experiences of the heart. He 
became the confidential friend and adviser of those he 
taught, and his pupils remember him as a living rep- 
resentative of the beloved disciple. It was a help to 
Llewelyn Evans to come into association with such a 
man at this time, for like all young men who think, he 
had his time of " storm and stress." It was a con- 
ference in which he had laid before Dr. Allen his 
difficulties in theology which decided him to enter the 
seminary, and it is known that later they discussed 
privately the problems more formally treated in the 
class room. Near the opening of his second seminary 
year (Aug. 19, 1858) he wrote at some length to a 
friend in Wales, who has kindly furnished in transla- 
tion the following extract, descriptive of his state of 
mind. 

"Somehow, the time has slipped away, and on look- 
ing back I fail to conceive what I have been doing. 
At the time however, when we are not conscious of 

(17) 



1 8 LLEWEYLYN IOAN EVANS. 

what is doing, we are sometimes undergoing the great- 
est changes, and are passing through a crisis in our lives. 
So the last two months have been, in some respects, 
an important period in my life, and as I have com- 
menced lifting the veil from some of the mysteries of 
my internal life, I feel an inclination to proceed with 
that work. At the close of my first term in the 
seminary, it was natural for me to examine myself and 
look around to see to what point the past had brought 
me, and in what direction I was drifting towards the 
future. I took an important step when I joined the 
seminary. I have through that proclaimed my desire 
and determination to serve my fellow men by instruct- 
ing them in the truth — and that, as the truth is under- 
stood and explained by orthodox churches. In this 
desire and determination I am, so far as I know myself, 
perfectly sincere. But it is necessary for me here to 
state that my own personal notions respecting several 
theological points are very unsettled. Since I began 
to think for myself I have had some doubts respecting 
some of the doctrines of the Old Body [Welsh Cal- 
vinistic Church]. I do not know whether there is any- 
thing in the atmosphere of this country more favorable 
to the spirit of doubt than in the stationary atmosphere 
of the Old Country or not. It is certain that it flour- 
ishes more generally here as regards everything — es- 
pecially religious truth. And once that spirit begins 
to work in the mind, it will not rest until it tests even 
the old dear truths which appeared so beautiful and 
natural to us when we were children. And while 
this spirit exists it is not possible for man to believe 
the truth with such living faith as is worthy of the 
truth — faith that takes hold of it, that embraces it and 
is wedded to it. And this is the only faith to which 
my soul can be reconciled. It is not sufficient for me 
that a truth fills some niche in the building — that it is 
serviceable as a sort of logical fiction to hold the system 
together. I have not much faith in a system at all. 
That which I believe must commend itself to my belief 
as a truth alive in itself — as something that fills a 
want in my own soul — not some metaphysical vacuum 



THEOLOGY AND PREACHING. I 9 

in my intellect. I have therefore resolved that I will 
not accept anything as truth save that which I can en- 
tij-ely believe ; because it is better for a man to have 
real faith in one truth than to give some sort of soulless 
assent to a hundred truths. As a result I had thrown 
aside one theological opinion after another, until my 
faith had been reduced to a minimum. Through God's 
mercy, some truths remained as objects of my faith, 
and these I have as foundation stones on which I am 
able to build some sort of positive belief. That is to 
be my work for the coming year, and I intend taking 
to it in a spirit free and open to the truth, expecting 
the blessing of the God of truth upon my labors. 

"I do not reject anything because it is a mystery. 
Just the reverse— I can not imagine how any one who 
has earnestly thought on it can help perceiving that 
every truth has its mystery, just as every substance has 
its shadow. But I do not know how to receive any- 
thing that is repugnant to the laws of my soul and the 
conditions of its working. I can not falsify myself 
without losing faith in everything. If I succeed, there- 
fore, in reconciling what are now called orthodox doc- 
trines with those laws to which they now appear con- 
tradictory, my path is clear before me, and my 
determination remains immovable. If I fail, I can not 
pretend to a faith which I do not possess ; and it will 
be necessary for me to turn my face again to literature, 
and serve the world in other ways. I resolve at any 
rate to be a free man, and not to undertake anything 
that will not allow me to speak out my mind on any 
subject. Some of my friends, who are in a measure 
aware of my opinions and resolutions, urge me to strike 
out and become independent of all other religious de- 
nominations. But, as for myself, I feel that if it is not 
possible for me to be an orthodox preacher (as it is 
called), it is better for me not to be one at all, and that 
I can do more good in other circles. This is the sum- 
mary of my meditations and resolutions during the past 
two months. My destiny will be fixed during the next 
nine months. Whatever it may be, I trust it may be 
acceptable to my Heavenly Father, and consistent both 



20 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

with my self-respect and with the dictates of my con- 
science." 

It can not be doubted that such a statement, made to 
an intimate friend in a private letter, unveils the heart 
of the writer. And the heart "thus unveiled commands 
our interest by the honesty of its purpose. The writer 
is determined, first of all, to be true to himself. He 
will accept no statement of truth except as he finds it 
true. He enters upon investigation with the desire to 
know the truth. But while he will carry with him no 
prejudice for the old because it is old, he yet sees that 
religious power is with the truth as generally held by 
the Evangelical churches. He has no desire to be a 
free lance in theology, or to become the leader of a new 
school of thought. He will give existing churches the 
benefit of his work or he will turn to something else 
than preaching. The fact that he completed his semi- 
nary course and entered upon the ministry is proof 
sufficient that his inquiries gave him evidence of the 
agreement of orthodox doctrine with those laws of our 
own mind, which we can not ignore without giving up 
our prerogative as rational beings. And while we ac- 
cept this conclusion we must recognize in the letter just 
quoted, that the purpose expressed is based on a sincere 
religious faith. The young theological student avows 
his desire and determination to instruct his fellow-men 
in the truth. He expects the blessing of the God of 
truth upon his labors. He has a high idea of the value 
of the truth as held by the so-called orthodox churches. 
He looks for the blessing of the Heavenly Father upon 
his efforts to ascertain the truth. In all these expres- 
sions we see the religious faith at the foundation of his 
being. It was with an earnest consecration that he pur- 
sued his studies and looked forward to the great work 
of instructing his fellow-men. But it is worth noticing 



THEOLOGY AND PREACHING. 21 

that even thus early he claims for himself the liberty of 
a free man, and resolves not to undertake anything that 
will not allow him to speak out his mind on any sub- 
ject. For this shows us the understanding with which 
he entered the Presbyterian ministry. Minds of such 
originality as his, are not apt to accept a system ver- 
batim et literatim. He already avows his distrust of a 
system as a system. He could not suppose that in 
adopting a system of doctrine he gave up the liberty 
which he so strenuously claims at the very outset of 
his studies. Had the New School Church in examining 
him for ordination insisted upon the rigid terms lately 
urged in the united church, it would have deprived 
itself of the services of one of the most exemplary, 
earnest and consecrated (as well as one of the most 
scholarly and brilliant) men that ever entered upon its 
ministry. These remarks are made with no polemic pur- 
pose, but for the light they shed upon the closing years 
of Professor Evans' life. 

The spirit with which the young student entered on 
his work, may, perhaps, be gathered from a sermon 
(preserved in outline) on the text: "Unto me who am 
less than the least of all saints was this grace given to 
preach the unsearchable riches of Christ." In the in- 
troduction to this sermon he says: "There never lived 
a minister of the truth who so magnified his calling as 
the Apostle Paul. It is exceedingly interesting in 
reading to observe the glowing satisfaction, the joy, 
the enthusiasm, with which [he views it]. Every- 
where we see beaming forth the conviction that he 
had found a work in which all his mighty energies 
might expatiate. And there is nothing which fills the 
soul with such joy, as the possession of a work which 
summons to its performance the highest and best in a 
man Such a work had Paul found — 



22 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

to preach the unsearchable riches of Christ.''' At a later 
date he expressed again his conviction of the import- 
ance of the ministry of the Gospel in these words: 
"Thought shivering in the Arctic winter night of un- 
belief; Life pining on the barren banks of secularism; 
Society festering in a corrupt pool of sensationalism ; 
Agnosticism turning its back to the sun, refusing to 
see anything but the blackness of its own shadow; 
Materialism substituting the dance of atoms for the 
processes of omnipotence, and reading its destiny in 
the dust of death, and not in immortal progression — 
what is the cure for all this? Only in men who know 
God with a knowledge that is power and life. The 
world is hungry for God, and is dying for the want of 
the spirit of truth and love. Be it yours to give God 
to men, to bring men to God ; straight to God from 
everything, straight from God to everything, face to 
face with God in everything. We commend you not 
to any theory of God, not to any hypothesis about 
God, but to God himself — God as pith of every 
thought, God as nerve of every purpose, God as wing 
of every word, God as spring of every action, God as 
care of every conscience, pole of every heart, goal of 
every life. Be God all your end, all your existence. 
To this God we commend you." These eloquent 
words show how the writer's early conviction of the 
importance of instructing his fellow-men in religious 
truth had ripened. It had in fact become a passion. 
The truth of God as it is in Jesus- Christ had taken 
full possession of his soul. But it was already there 
in the early time when he was not certain that he 
should be able to accept the forms in which the truth 
is accepted by the orthodox churches. For even then 
he saw the essential qualities of Gospel faith and its 
adaptation to the needs of men. 



THEOLOGY AND PREACHING. 23 

Mr. Evans entered the seminary a few weeks after 
the opening of the term. His classmates remember 
him as at first somewhat reserved. The reserve was 
increased in appearance by the fact that he was an en- 
tire stranger, while most of the students, coming from 
colleges already represented in the seminary, found old 
acquaintances among their fellow-students. It was not 
long, however, before the stranger was recognized as a 
brilliant student as well as a warm and genial friend. 
One of his classmates * writes : ' ' Llewelyn Evans was 
not a young man to push an acquaintance. Yet there 
was even then [at the first] a magnetic influence about 
him to command attention, and one would inquire of 
another who that was that went trotting around with a 
head like Moses' bush. But it was not long until he 
led us to look at him in a different light. It was, I 
think, after his first topical discussion before the class 
which came out bristling with sharp points and was 
read with lightning-like rapidity, that the ever ready 
Joe Little whispered something in my ear about Mer- 
curius having come down to join our class. From 
that time there was, I think, no difference of opinion 
as to who was at the head of the class in ability and 
scholarship. He was not only honored, but beloved 
by all his classmates." Another classmate f emphasizes 
especially his helpfulness and sympathy. This gentle- 
man, writing of differences of view among the students 
on the subject of slavery, says: "He saw I needed 
sympathy. He came to my help. He did not see as 
I did, but he thought he saw me standing for a prin- 
ciple. And whether it was right or wrong for my 
church to press the principle to the extent it did, he 
conceived it to be my right to hold that view* And 

* The Rev. J. P. Williamson. 
f The Rev. A. T. Rankin, D.D. 



24 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

these differences of view and of denomination made no 
difference as to our friendship. He was indebted to 
me for a few lessons in Hebrew ; but I to him for the 
influence of a maturer mind, a stronger intellect, keener 
perceptive faculties and riper scholarship ; withal a 
loving heart that repaid me a thousand-fold in less than 

a week He had that indefinable something which 

gives ease to a child in presence of, and converse with, 
a man. That great mind of his did not come down 
upon you with the weight of its treasures to crush you, 
or to frighten you with its flashes of light — but to en- 
courage you, to cheer you, to give you ease and to 
draw something from you ; leaving you with the feeling : 
' It is more blessed to give than to receive.' Though 
you received abundance from him, he left you as God 
left Jacob — feeling very good at giving a tithe back. 
Right there was Evans' power. It was that large 
sympathy that put his mind into your mind and mingled 
his thoughts with your thoughts so that you never drew 
the line, but had all things in common, The man 
with a narrow lot has as good a view as the one with 
broad acres if the line fences have never been built. . . . 
I have questioned many of the graduates and they all 
seem to have had more in common with Evans than 
with any teacher in college or seminary. So you find 
it was with his classmates. There were fifteen of us. 
He outranked us all, but touched the envy of none."* 
The characteristics of the man as here portrayed are 
the same everywhere emphasized by his friends. One 
of his earliest friends says : " I may briefly say that I 
consider it one of the greatest privileges of my life to 
have enjoyed his friendship for twenty-two years. As 
a man, I found him full of poetic genius, of great re- 

* Address delivered at the Lane Seminary Club on the Life of 
Dr. Evans. 



THEOLOGY AND PREACHING. 2$ 

source and sound learning, of refined and sensitive 
nature, modest even to a fault. As a Christian he was 
one of the most simple, childlike and Christlike I have 
ever known. His prayers, while couched in the choicest 
language, breathed a childlike simplicity and faith 
which bespoke a spirit in close communion with his 
Heavenly Father. As a friend, though naturally re- 
served and not always easy of access, when once his 
confidence was thoroughly won, he was perfectly re- 
liable, and would gradually, like the dawn of day 
spreading over the horizon, yield a wealth of intellec- 
tual, social, and spiritual pleasure to those permitted to 
enjoy it, seldom found in this imperfect world." Those 
who knew Dr. Evans will appreciate the justness of this 
description. To those who knew him not, it may 
faintly outline v/hat he was to those who were admitted 
to his friendship. And what he was in after life, he 
was already as a student. His character was made 
broader and richer by the experience of years. But 
the foundations were there in the early time. 

With deep and earnest piety, high intellectual qualifi- 
cations, and broad and thorough scholarship, was united 
intense, practical interest in every good work. The the- 
ological student took an active part in city mission work. 
He was helpful in the Young Men's Christian Associa- 
tion, and assisted in the Union Bethel, besides aiding in 
the organization of the Pilgrim Mission. In the latter 
part of his course he was often invited to preach in the 
Lane Seminary Church. The church was organized in 
connection with the Seminary, but at this time its mem- 
bership consisted largely of persons not connected with 
the Seminary. At the close of his Seminary course 
(i860) Dr. Evans was called to the pastorate of this 
church, and served it for three years. He had declined 
a call to the Presbyterian church of Newport, Ky. 



26 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

What Dr. Evans was as a preacher and pastor, only 
those can know who had the privilege of being mem- 
bers of his charge. He had the highest qualifications 
for both offices. His burning rhetoric may be faintly 
realized from his printed discourses. For, after all, the 
living voice is necessary to render the full effect of such 
addresses. No one who heard him at this time will 
ever forget the impassioned wealth of his language, 
poured forth with an ardor that made the listener hold 
his breath as he tried to follow. The "lightning-like 
rapidity of his delivery," of which one of his classmates 
has spoken, was the natural expression of a soul on fire 
with zeal for the truth. As time went on he was com- 
pelled to moderate the speed with which he spoke, be- 
cause physically it was too exhausting. But to those 
who heard him in the earlier time, it was a keen de- 
light to follow this outpouring of thoughts that breathed 
in words that burned. It is related of him that when 
he preached his first sermon before the class, some of 
the students were disposed to criticize. But the Pro- 
fessor of Sacred Rhetoric, Dr. Henry Smith, one of 
the first of American preachers, said: "Young gentle- 
men, there is no criticism to be made on that sermon." 
Those who knew the height of Dr. Smith's ideal and 
the reserve of his utterance, will find that sentence 
higher praise than the laudation of thousands. As for 
his pastoral qualifications, we have already seen the 
sympathy of his nature, one of the first essentials to 
true pastoral efficiency. His ideal is well set before us 
by himself in a sermon commemorative of his beloved 
friend Dr. O. A. Lyman.* "The life of Christ's true 
servant is a life in earnest, a life of earnest striving, of 
soldierly courage, patience and perseverance. It is a 

* Preached in the Euclid Avenue Church, Cleveland, 
March, 1872. 



THEOLOGY AND PREACHING. 2J 

life of faithful adherence to the line of duty enjoined by 
conscience. It is a life of power, a power born of earn- 
estness and fidelity, a power with which Christ himself 
invests his servant, a power which in its measure over- 
comes the power of evil in the world, a power which all 
recognize as the power of holiness, of truth, of Christ. 
It is a spiritual force, charged with electric energy to 
wither corruption, to blast error, to shiver wrong, to 
startle consciences, to quicken souls, to inspire Christian 
manhood. It is a life which to live is to be a king of 
men, a royal shepherd of souls, a spiritual leader, wisely 
guiding, strongly drawing men after himself. It is no 
less a life of quiet, gentle beauty, winning, persuasive, 
pure as one of heaven's glistening gems, shedding in its 
serene light a holy benediction, a life such as that 
mediaeval saint must have lived whose name won for 
itself the addition "Mild as the evening star." Or it 
is a life which wears on its brow the morning star, full 
of glad promise, its pure radiance preluding the heav- 
enly dawn, a morning Evangel of that holy light which 
shineth more and more unto the perfect day. It is a 
life which breathes hope and joy, the courage of princi- 
ple, the enthusiasm of duty, the magnetic might of 
faith. It is a life, in fine, in which the power of Christ is 
felt to be working, on which the glory of Christ is seen 
to be resting, through which the sceptre of Christ is 
reaching forth to rule the world, to sway its thoughts 
and convictions and character, by which the cross of 
Christ is uplifted and glorified to the healing of earth's 
maladies, out of which the spirit of Christ goes forth 
with divine creative and assimilative energy, a life — 

Where only Christ is heard to speak, 
Where Jesus reigns alone." 



28 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

The thought so eloquently expressed here is that the 
minister preaches the truth by embodying the truth in 
his life, bringing it home to his people in his social in- 
tercourse as in the pulpit. 

Dr. Evans' social qualities, and especially the wit and 
humor which enlivened every circle in which he moved, 
will claim our attention later. Just now I wish to no- 
tice the fact that his service of the Lane Seminary 
Church came at the time when the nation was called 
upon to undertake the war for the Union. Dr. Evans' 
sympathies were altogether on the side of the Union. 
His heart, like that of every patriot, urged him to enter 
the army. But men were needed at home as well as at 
the front, and he saw that great interests would be sacri- 
ficed were he to abandon the post in which Providence 
had placed him. In 1861 (October) he was offered the 
chaplaincy of the eighteenth regiment, then recruiting 
at Columbus. The offer was a tempting one. But there 
were many things to be considered. His position as pas- 
tor was important to a growing church ; at the same 
time he was already a help to the seminary, which 
needed all the resources within its reach. In fact, not 
long after this time he began to deliver lectures to the 
students of the seminary. It should be noted that the 
pecuniary compensation of the chaplaincy was consider- 
ably above what he was receiving as pastor. We can 
realize how youthful ardor, public opinion, the needs of 
the country, the good of the soldier, would plead for 
the army. But after careful consideration he declined 
the call. There was work to be done at home. In this 
exciting period Dr. Evans was foremost among those 
who sustained the courage of the people. In the dark- 
est hours he never lost heart. His faith saw that the 
outcome was certain, though it might be at the cost of 
struggle and suffering. Every movement for the good 



THEOLOGY AND PREACHING. 20, 

of the soldier had his hearty support. As he was not 
able to give largely from his salary, he delivered lectures, 
the proceeds of which went to the Christian Commis- 
sion. The chief of these (on John Milton, the patriot,) 
is still remembered as a masterpiece. In general, it 
may be said here, few men have been less moved by 
pecuniary considerations than was our friend. He fre- 
quently declined invitations that would have given him 
an income more adequate to the wants of a cultivated 
man and a student, than the one he actually received. 
His salary, when called to a professorship in the semi- 
nary, was one thousand dollars per annum. Although 
doing the full work of a professor (and often more than 
that) he did not receive the same salary with other 
members of the faculty until 1874. The reason for this 
was the financial need of the institution. It is men- 
tioned here not as a reproach to the institution, which, 
of course, was obliged to live on what it had, but as 
showing the unselfishness of the man. This unselfish- 
ness showed itself constantly in his readiness to help 
enterprises which could not give adequate compensation 
for service rendered. His lectures were always deliv- 
ered for the benefit of some good cause. He preached 
much (after entering upon his work as professor) for 
small or recently organized churches, and took much 
interest in their growth. For many years prior to the 
annexation of the village of Walnut Hills to the city of 
Cincinnati, he was a member of the Board of Public 
Schools, and served with great efficiency as their clerk 
and examiner. But this is anticipating. 

In 1863 Mr. Evans was elected Professor of Church 
History in Lane Seminary. He had given lectures in 
that department some time before, in connection with 
his pastoral work. Dr. Smith had been called to a 
charge in Buffalo, so that the seminary was inadequately 



30 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

manned, even in comparison with what it had been. 
This chair Dr. Evans filled with great acceptance, and 
his brilliant lectures are still remembered by some of 
the people of Walnut Hills who were permitted to hear 
them. It was soon after his appointment that the New 
School General Assembly met at Dayton, Ohio (1864). 
Dr. Evans was not a member of the Assembly, but was 
an interested spectator. Sunday evening after the open- 
ing of the Assembly Dr. Howard Crosby preached a 
sermon on the text : ' l Blessed are they that do his com- 
mandments, that they may have right to the tree of 
life, and may enter in through the gates into the city." 
This sermon made a profound impression upon all who 
heard it, among whom was the young professor. Un- 
der its inspiration he prepared an address on John Cal- 
vin which made him widely known in the New School 
body. The occasion was on this wise: the General 
Assembly resolved to observe the Tercentenary of the 
death of Calvin, which came during its sessions. Dr. 
Allen was appointed one of the speakers. But being 
prevented from taking part, he had Professor Evans 
appointed in his place. That the Professor (then not 
thirty-one) was comparatively unknown in the denomi- 
nation may be judged from the fact that the committee 
announced him as "a professor in Lane Seminary," 
while they did not find it necessary to describe any of 
the other speakers. After the address, which was in 
the Professor's most brilliant vein, it is safe to say that 
the speaker was no longer unknown. He may be said 
to have won his spurs on this occasion. Henceforth his 
friends had a right to number him among the leaders of 
his denomination. 



III. 

EXEGESIS. 

In the year 1867 the chair of Biblical Literature be- 
came vacant, and Dr. Evans was transferred to that 
department, having already given some instruction in 
it. This was to be his life work. For some years he 
had both the Old and New Testament work. In 187 1 
the chair was divided, and Dr. Evans took the division 
of Hebrew and Old Testament Exegesis, the New Testa- 
ment being placed in the hands of the Rev. Dr. Thomas 
E. Thomas. At the death of Dr. Thomas (1875), Dr. 
Evans was transferred to the New Testament depart- 
ment, which he retained until his death. For just a 
quarter of a century, therefore, he was allowed to de- 
vote his energies to the study and exposition of the 
Word of God. In this work he showed the same self- 
denying zeal which had characterized his earlier career. 
Repeatedly he assumed extra work and cheerfully per- 
formed it, even at the cost of cherished plans of his 
own. Thus during Dr. Thomas' illness and for some 
months after his death he carried the work of both 
chairs. When I became Instructor in Hebrew Dr. 
Evans carried the advanced work in both languages. 
After the death of Dr. Smith he took a part of the 
homiletical work, and similarly in the case of Dr. Hum- 
phrey and Dr. Eells. 

(3i) 



32 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

Probably there have been few better instructors in 
Biblical learning. Professor Evans had had no advant- 
ages for special study. But he had a taste for research, 
fine linguistic talents, a deep love for spiritual truth, 
enthusiasm for literature, and sympathy with inquiring 
minds. By his own almost unaided exertions he ac- 
quired an extensive knowledge of German thought. 
He followed the course of theological inquiry with 
keen interest. Having made Greek and Hebrew his 
special objects of study, he was indefatigable in work- 
ing out their problems. Pie was never satisfied with a 
single commentator's solution of a difficulty, nor even 
with the consensus of the scholars. He could rest with 
nothing short of all the light that could be had, and for 
this light he searched not only the commentaries, but 
the lexicons, the versions, the parallel passages. It 
was, perhaps, his experience in searching out the deep 
things of God that led to his talk on "the Preacher as 
a Seeker or Inquirer," of which an outline is still pre- 
served. The theme is introduced by the remark of a 
minister: "I am always sure of one anxious inquirer: 
If there be none in the pews I know of one in the pul- 
pit." To this Dr. Evans adds: "The preacher is or 
should be in a high and important sense an inquirer." 
He then points out that the term inquirer has a correl- 
ative. The seeker seeks something, an object is 
before him, and this in the case of the preacher is: 
that knowledge or experience of Christian truth which 
leads to complete Christian manhood. He then dis- 
cusses the attitude of the inquirer for truth. He dis- 
tinctly rejects the position that we must start without 
prepossessions. Yet he would have prejudice put 
aside — "all belief that is merely traditional, all which 
has not already commended itself on the best evi- 
dence." By laying aside these the seeker becomes as 



EXEGESIS. 33 

a little child. "But he who does become as a little 
child enters the kingdom. He does not stand forever 
at the door. The progress of the theological seeker is 
not from one negation to another, not from doubt to 
doubt, but from faith to faith The com- 
plement of seeking is finding. . . . To seek for- 
ever without finding would be an eternal delirium." 
Hence he gathers the characteristic marks of a Chris- 
tian seeker: " (i) To. have the spirit and disposition of 
a true disciple; to recognize the true value of divine 
truth ; to hunger and thirst after righteousness. (2) 
To exercise the requisite activity ; to meet the advances 
of God's Spirit; to obey his suggestions; and to recog- 
nize the law of progress in spiritual culture; to seek 
that he may find. (3) Thus to avoid the faults of (a) 
stagnation, {b) self complacency, (c) narrowness and 
dogmatism." It is to be regretted that this fine ad- 
dress is not preserved to us complete. Enough re- 
mains to note (further) the author's conception of the 
Bible as the source of truth: "The material of truth 
is fact, i. e. reality. The great question the seeker 
proposes is: what is the reality of being? Now have 
you ever thought that the Bible is almost altogether a 
book of facts? The largest portion of it, to begin 
with, is history — the record of what has been. Then 
comes poetry, and poetry is a record of psychological 
facts, experimental facts, the history of souls. Job, 
Ecclesiastes, the Psalms are not surpassed [in this 
respect] by Sophocles or Shakspeare. Prophecy is 
what ? Largely a recognition of existing facts, social, 
moral, religious ; for the remainder, an anticipation of 
future facts. Even a didactic book like Proverbs is a 
source of facts. Hence our search is first a search for 
facts, next a search for the significance of the facts — 
we must find the soul of each. . . . This is not 



34 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

all. We are to learn their relations. The facts and 
realities of revelation are not like a string of pearls, 
but like a network, interlacing, dependent, or rather 
they are all a spiritual body, an organic whole, mem- 
bers without number but all one body." 

It was with such conceptions of the seeker and his 
object that Dr. Evans carried on his work. The work 
of the student is to search for the truth. But a further 
consideration had great weight with him. The truth 
gained by the theological student is a means to an end 
and this end is the good of others. Not to gain the 
truth simply for one's own edification, but to proclaim 
it for the good of others — this is the real aim of theo- 
logical study. This practical aim was always promi- 
nently before Prof. Evans. His paper on an "Evan- 
gelistic Theology" is sufficient evidence of this 
statement. And even more explicitly he affirms it in 
his addresses on the Faculty of Lane (delivered at the 
opening of Seminary Hall, December 1 8, 1879) anc * on 
the Life and Work of Prof. Stowe (read before the 
Lane Club, December 14,1886). His thorough appre- 
ciation of the spirit of the Seminary can be shown by 
a quotation from the former of these papers : 

"The leading characteristic of the old Faculty of 
Lane, that which gave to its members their unity and 
vitality, was their evangelistic spirit. They were men 
in whom the Great Commission was as fire in their 
bones. The Redeemer's kingdom of grace and glory, 
the majesty, the power, the triumph of that kingdom — 
this was the vision which enraptured and energized 

their souls Would it be too much to hope that, 

through such seraph souls, Lane Seminary has been 
harnessed to the chariot of Christ, yoked forever to the 
thought 'Christ for the world, the world for Christ?' 

"This seems to be the proper place to emphasize 
the revival spirit which so eminently characterized the 
early Faculty. The Faculty records show that in 1839, 



EXEGESIS. 35 

in the very midst of the throes which accompanied the 
rending of the Presbyterian Church in twain, the topics 
of the Faculty conference with students for five weeks 

in succession, all centered in the idea of a revival 

This intense evangelism and revivalism found practical 
expression in the earnest endeavor and purpose of those 
men to train their students, above all else, to be 
preachers. They did not disparage scholastic attain- 
ments ; they did not depreciate theological culture ; but 
with them the crown of all theological acquisition and 
discipline was power in preaching — preaching so as to 
save souls. Dr. Allen has said of Dr. Beecher in 
words which indicate his own conception of what is the 
grand aim of theological instruction : ' the truths he 
discussed became living truths, truths to be loved and 
lived and preached ; lively stones in God's spiritual 
house, which would illuminate and animate everything 
they could touch, and not bones of a skeleton to be 
fastened together with wires, and hung up to show how 
complete a theological system can be and how cold it 
can be too. ' And the same may be said [continues 
Dr. Evans] of all that earlier Faculty from Beecher, 
with whom the grandest thing was to save souls, down 
to Smith, with whom a true sermon was the highest 
work of art, and the pulpit the most commanding 

pedestal of mental and spiritual greatness They 

were, moreover, thoroughly practical men. They were 
far indeed, from favoring the superficial cant of a prac- 
tical culture which disregards thorough drill in the 
essentials of Christian scholarship and thorough ground- 
ing in the fundamentals of Christian doctrine. It was, 
indeed, precisely to counteract such pseudo-practicalism 
that they gave themselves up so heartily and zealously 
to the business of theological education in the West. 
But in the best sense of the word they were thoroughly 
practical men. They did not deal in hair-splitting 
dialectics, in mere speculative subtleties, in infra-micro- 
scopic infinitesimals. For them Truth was Life. . . . Nor 
must we omit to record their catholicity of spirit. What 
Bishop Mclvaine said of Dr. Biggs, might be said of 
each of them : ' A beautiful trait in his character was 



36 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

the largeness of his Christian regards.' They believed 
in a spiritual Christianity; they took large interior 
views of its truths and forces. They came here not to 
tithe sectarian mint, or ecclesiastical anise, or theo- 
logical cummin ; they came to magnify the essentials 
of Christianity. 

"This earnest endeavor of the early Faculty of Lane 
to bring their teachings into contact with the living 
wants of the world finds another expression in their 
progressive spirit. While firmly planting themselves on 
the Reformed theology as ' containing unquestionably 
the system of doctrine taught in the Holy Scriptures, 
and standing through ages against the encroachments 
of error, as the iron-bound shores to the ocean,' they 
sought at the same time to occupy those points of view 
which made more clear the adaptation of Christian truth 
to the exigencies of the day in which we live. Clearly 
discriminating between human philosophies and the di- 
vine Word, as factors of Christian thought, they sought 
to unfold the system of doctrine, as it is to be found 
clothed and beautified and inspired with life, as it exists 
and operates in the Word of God." 

The warmth with which the author dilates upon these 
various qualifications of the early professors shows that 
he was strongly in sympathy with them. The appreci- 
ation of their devotion, their manliness, their thorough 
scholarship, their practical aim, their progressive spirit, 
which is shown in his eulogy, arose from a kindred dis- 
position and kindred aspirations in his own heart. In 
truth, Professor Evans was not behind any of those no- 
ble men. Without exaggeration we may apply to him 
what he said of Professor Stowe : ' ' This rare combina- 
tion of gifts he consecrated to the service of religion in 
what was for him the great business of his life — advan- 
cing the true interpretation of the Word of God in the 
ministry, in the church, and in the world. This was his 
preeminent mission. It was the passion of his being. 
For it he was richly endowed with scholarship, genius, 



EXEGESIS. 37 

aptness to teach, enthusiasm, and, above all, supreme 
love for the Bible. Of his statement and practice of the 
principles of interpretation, I must content myself now 
with saying that he was sound, sober, conservative; at 
the same time he was broad, progressive, fearless, open 
to the light ; indeed, eager for the light which, with the 
Puritan Robinson, he believed is yet to break forth from 
the Word of God and ' will continue to increase until the 
time of the end. ' He believed in exegesis, not eisegesis ; 
in inductive, not a priori exegesis ; in the exegesis of 
the spirit, as deeper and truer than that of the letter." 

What Dr. Evans was in the class-room and in the 
services of the Seminary may be gathered from what 
has now been seen of his attitude towards the Script- 
ures. His pupils never had any doubt that the text 
they were studying was to him the authoritative Word 
of God. His personal reverence for it was evident in 
all his handling of it. It was the man of his counsel, 
the light of his path. It would not be too much for 
him to say with the Psalmist: "How sweet are thy 
words unto my taste ! Yea, sweeter than honey to my 
mouth ! " The result was a rare familiarity with the Bi- 
ble, and this not merely with the English version, but 
with the meaning and force of the original. His public 
reading of the New Testament was an evidence of this. 
By inflection and emphasis he put into the well-known 
words new life and beauty and power. What he said 
about the practical aim of the Lane professors was emi- 
nently true of himself. Any question by a student as 
to the application of a text was met with sympathy, 
and answered with interest. Towards the student in 
need of help he showed the friendliness noted by his 
classmate in a passage quoted above. The dull or dis- 
couraged were never repulsed or even sharply brought 
up by him. He seemed to have an instinctive appreci- 



38 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

ation of the difficulties of his pupils, he entered into 
these difficulties, he understood the point of view of 
the inquirer, and, starting from that common point, led 
him to the higher and broader outlook. He had a gen- 
uine affection for his pupils, and followed their course 
both in the Seminary and out of it as only a genuine 
teacher can. 

In connection with his work as professor, he was able 
to instruct a wide circle through the press. He was 
invited by the Rev. Dr. SchafT, editor of the great 
Lange Commentary, to prepare for the press the 
volume on Job in that series. The volume which 
appeared in 1874 was much more than a simple 
translation of the German. It was enriched by notes 
from many sources, and showed the translator's famil- 
iarity with the literature of the subject. He supple- 
mented the introduction also by a discussion of his own 
on the authorship of the book. This discussion, headed 
"Was Hezekiah the author of Job?" is an acute 
comparison of the literary character of Job with the 
psalm of Hezekiah in Isaiah xxxviii, and with the 
historical notices of that king found in other books. 
The material in hand is not sufficient in quantity to 
make the argument decisive. But it must be said that 
the American editor, in attributing the book to Heze- 
kiah, was much nearer the right date than his German 
original, which placed it in the age of Solomon. The 
commentary was welcomed by Dr. SchafT with high 
praise, and he immediately invited the translator to 
prepare a commentary of his own on some of the 
books where he found the German volume unsatisfac- 
tory. Dr. Evans accepted this invitation, and entered 
with ardor upon the work. Scarcely had he begun his 
preparation, however, when the death of one of his 
colleagues threw extra work upon him. With the 



EXEGESIS. 3g 

loyalty to the seminary which always characterized 
him, he gave up all outside matters to do double work 
for the students. 

The Presbyterian Review, founded in 1881, was 
always an object of interest to Dr. Evans, and on the 
death of Professor James Eells, he became one of the 
associate editors. He had also been associated with 
the Rev. Dr. Day in conducting the Theological Eclec- 
tic. Of his contributions to the Presbyterian Review, 
two at least deserve mention here. One was an article 
on the Doctrinal Significance of the Revision (of the 
New Testament). This article, which appeared in 
1883, is an appreciative estimate of the Revisor's work. 
It reviews the changes made from the Authorized Ver- 
sion under the several heads : Inspiration, Revelation, 
the Godhead, Christology, Pneumatology, Anthropol- 
ogy, Soteriology and Eschatology. Under each head 
the changes made are briefly characterized with their 
implications, abundant references being given in the 
notes. The article is a helpful review of Dogmatic 
Theology, with an indication of the way in which it 
ought to be brought nearer to Biblical teaching. It 
could be written only by one at home in both depart- 
ments, and only by one saturated with the original 
language of the New Testament. 

The second contribution I will mention, is an editorial 
note, published in 1887, on the Biblical Doctrine of the 
Intermediate State. On this, which the author rightly 
describes as one of the most difficult as well as one of 
the most imperfectly developed departments of Biblical 
Theology, we have here a model discussion. Appar- 
ently the induction is complete ; no important passage 
is overlooked. The treatment is genetic and historical. 
The Old Testament rudiments are shown in their sim- 
plicity, and the development of the New Testament 



40 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

doctrine is shown to proceed from this basis. The 
largeness of the New Testament doctrine is given 
without dogmatic forcing. Sobriety of judgment is 
combined with believing acceptance of what is revealed, 
and resting in what is revealed. The article makes us 
regret that the author had not given us a complete 
Biblical Theology. 

Of late years his attention was more and more 
drawn to the Epistle to the Romans. He read it 
regularly with one of his classes and prepared extended 
outlines of a commentary for their use. The purpose 
to publish a commentary on it was formed some years 
ago, and one of the attractions in the call to Wales 
was that it seemed to promise him a time free from 
interruptions in which to complete this great work. 
He once said to me : "I want to get at the thoughts 
of the Apostle as they lay in his mind." With this 
end in view he had of late years paid especial attention 
to Jewish theology, hoping to understand the thoughts 
of Paul the Pharisee, as the Pharisees of the first cen- 
tury would have understood them. When it was 
laughingly said to him that the commentators get 
more things out of Paul's language than are there, he 
replied with great earnestness : " I once thought so, 
but the more I study his language the more I find in 
it." As an illustration of his method in bringing out 
the thought of the text, I will quote a fragment on 
Rom. v, 7 : 
_ . " For [illustrative] hardly fa difficult thin? to 

Super-human j a mi j- rr j. c i 

contrasts. suppose or doj will any one die [future of proba- 

bility] in behalf of a righteous man [double con- 
trast of dinaioc. i. with aae(3fc preceding: 2. with 
ayaddg following ; dinaioc here a man whose strict in- 
The maximum tegrity rather than generosity is the conspicuous 

of human feature of his character; — with difficulty I say] for 
[justifying fiolig ; something more than blameless- 
ness is needed to call out any such sacrifice in be- 
half of another among men] in behalf of the 



EXEGESIS. 41 

[ideally rov] good man [whose nobleness aud mag- 
nanimity inspire personal devotion] one does [pres- 
ent indicative : such a case is not unknown ; one 
does now and then, here or there] peradventure 
[after all such a case is a possibility rather than a 
probability] even muster courage to die. 

But [contrasting the unicum of Divine Love The unicum of 
with the maximum of human love] God sets forth divine love, 
[putting one thing with, beside another, so as to set 
forth the former] HIS OWN [spontaneous, proceed- 
ing from Himself, worthy of Himself] love towards 
us in that while we were as yet [prior to the inter- 
position of Divine Love] sinners [not ayaOoi, not 
even ducaioi] Christ died for us [N. B. Ckrisfs dying 
for us setting forth God's love]." 

It must be remembered that this is a mere outline 
intended for the guidance of the student. In the class- 
room it was supplemented by the personal instruction 
of the author — an instruction vivified by intense love 
for the sacred Word, and glowing with a passion for 
the truth. The author's broadly sympathetic view of 
the Apostle Paul may be gathered from an outline 
sermon on Rom. v, 17: ("For if by one man's offense 
death reigned by one," etc.) from which the follow- 
ing is taken: 

"This chapter is the scene of a thousand pitched 
battles. Here the theological war horses snuff the 
battle and prick up their ears — the Fathers, the School- 
men, the Reformers, the Puritans, the Divines, the 
Commentators. The contest has raged about particles, 
clauses, grammar, logic. The Divine Fire has been 
parsed out, the Divine Life has been criticized and 
dissected. It has been the misfortune of the world to 
be visited with literal, prosaic, onesided minds, incapa- 
ble of more than one thought, incapable of appre- 
ciating the high thoughts of others. . . . And it 
has been the misfortune of ardent enthusiastic souls to 
fall victims to such. Often one of the narrow, one- 
sided, undertakes to measure the large, manysided. 
Sometimes the glowing melting inspirations of the 
poet (like David or Isaiah) are frozen into abstract 
formulas [by such a course]. The burning utterances 



42 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

of a seraphic soul (like Paul or John) are parsed dry 
and dead like an Egyptian mummy; and there are 
those who (like the watchmaker) put on magnifying 
glasses and try to pick out grammatical errors in the 
songs of heaven. 

"It is often the case that a man's greatest enemy is 
his own reputation. If he have the reputation of a 
'wit' he cannot say anything serious without making 
people laugh. If he have the reputation of an ' en- 
thusiast ' he cannot propose anything practical without 
having it called visionary. If he have the reputation 
of being ' matter of fact, ' he cannot utter anything 
elevated without giving rise to the fear that he is 
insane. It has been the fate of Paul to bear the 
reputation of a logician. Such, no doubt he was. But, 
was he nothing else ? [It is forgotten] that he was full 
of passion, poetry, fire. And when cold, unimpassioned, 
unimaginative, literal souls examine him, they see 
nothing in his impassioned appeals, glowing conceptions, 
poetic personifications, vehement bursts of eulogy, 
lightning-like flashes and transitions of thought, but 
logic — a chain of premises and conclusions; a string 
of argumentative hooks and eyes, which somehow have 
sometimes got very much entangled. No wonder that 
when such come to Romans Y. they cannot agree. 
For the chapter is what? Not a didactic essay, a 
theological lecture, a dry formula like the Confession 
of Faith ; but a hymn of joy, a psalm of thanksgiving. 
Of course, there is logic, for there is logic in all true 
eloquence. But it is a ' logic on fire, ' as different from 
what ordinarily passes for logic, as the train of powder 
dry is different from the same train when fired. We 
cannot analyze it — it analyzes itself. . . . Regard it now 
as a hymn, and as I read it imagine the glorified spirit 
of Paul, clothed with heavenly radiance, chanting the 
praises of Christ's redeeming love, to thrill with courage 
and joy the hearts of his brethren struggling and tried 
below." 

With such breadth and insight did our Professor 
carry on the study of the Bible. Nor was his study 
confined to the Epistle to the Romans. Among his 



EXEGESIS. 43 

papers are extended analyses of Ephesians, Galatians, 
Hebrews and James, besides comparative tables of lex- 
ical peculiarities of different books, discussions of in- 
dividual words, of hebraisms in the New Testament, 
and of points in introduction. His lectures on Her- 
meneutics and on the history of the New Testament 
text were frequently re-written. In short, his papers 
give evidence of constant activity in his department as 
well as of wide literary, philosophical and theological 
research. In connection with his professorship he acted 
as librarian of the Seminary for some years. He was 
also an active member of the Theological and Religious 
Library Association, of Cincinnati, during the whole 
of his connection with the Seminary. For a consider- 
able part of the time he was a member of its Execu- 
tive Committee. His wide knowledge of literature was 
of especial value to this association. He touched 
literature and theology thus at many points. Central 
to them all was his knowledge of the Bible and his 
interest in the Bible. 



IV. 

HOME AND SOCIAL LIFE. 

It is unfortunate that we can not present our friends 
in their entirety — that in order to see them ourselves 
or to describe them to others, we have to analyze 
them. A bill of particulars is not a picture, much less 
is it a person. But a bill of particulars is all we can 
present in a biographical sketch. I have preferred to 
say what I had to say of my friend's character as a 
scholar and teacher under one head, reserving some 
personal traits for a distinct chapter. The manysided- 
ness of his character makes it necessary that we should 
not, in considering the exegete, forget the man. 

Of sanguine temper and abounding humor, Dr. Evans 
was retiring in disposition, so that he did not show this 
side of his character at all times. In the intimacy of 
home and among near friends, however, he showed 
inexhaustible resources both of wit and humor. A brief 
note in his handwriting gives his own appreciation of 
the latter endowment. "No man," he says, "can be 
fully and thoroughly and always wise, without humor. 
There are circumstances when it is only the keen and 
vivid perception of folly which humor gives, that can 
save a man from being foolish, or, what is quite as bad, 
ridiculous. Hence, humorless men, however grave, 
sagacious, learned, have often been guilty of absurdities 

(44) 



HOME AND SOCIAL LIFE. 45 

which amaze us." Those who knew Dr. Evans as a 
young man recall the almost rollicking enjoyment with 
which he would delight the social circle, keeping them 
bubbling over by his infinitude of jests. As he grew 
older this tendency was chastened, but his appreciation 
of fun was keen to the last. There was, however, noth- 
ing malicious in his merry-making, and it is doubtful 
whether a single human being was ever hurt by what 
he said. 

For the last twenty-five years of his life he was a 
member of a social and literary club called U. C. D. A 
gentleman who was associated with him in this organ- 
ization from its beginning, speaks of him as follows :* 

"He brought to this club talents of the highest order, 
and placed his training as a teacher, a writer and a critic 
at its service. He constantly drew from the rich stores 
at his command, rare and beautiful things for its enter- 
tainment. Early in his membership he was appointed 
secretary, was re-elected year after year, and no one 
was found willing to assume the place when he vacated 
it. His minutes at once became the prominent feature 
of each meeting, and the greatest incentive to prompt 
attendance. Any so unfortunate as to be a little late 
would slip into a convenient chair, or rest upon the 
stairway to hear him before retiring to remove out-door 
wraps. Each record presented some new manifestation 
of his wonderful versatility as a writer. He never con- 
fined himself to a bare recital of the facts. He wove into 
the texture by way of background just enough reference 
to the actual events of a meeting to identify it, and 
then added such marvelous creations of his genius, such 
irresistible displays of wit, such rare bits of pure, gen- 
uine fun and such evidences of scholarly ability, as to 
make of the whole a literary production of very unusual 
merit. 



*From a paper read before the Lane Seminary Club by- 
Thornton M. Hinkle, Esq. 



46 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

"The minutes of scientific and professional bodies 
report not only the papers read to them but also the 
discussions upon them which follow. Occasionally 
Prof. Evans would supply from his vivid fancy such a 
discussion to supplement his references to papers read 
to the club. At one meeting a paper was read upon 
American birds which mentioned the fact that it was 
the male bird only which is gifted with song and is 
clothed with the most beautiful plumage. He closed 
a brief reference to it by stating that it was interesting 
not only in what it said but in what it suggested ; that 
it gave rise to a series of remarks by the various 
husbands in the company, which were reported some- 
what at length in the usual style, in which they claimed 
analogies and drew deductions from these superior en- 
dowments of the male bird, to their own great credit 
and comfort, and to the poorly suppressed indignation 
and confusion of their wives. The discussion was very 
scientific, very funny, and altogether imaginary. 

" His minutes came to us often in the shape of poetry, 
either blank verse or rhyme, with frequent imitations 
of many well known writers who prided themselves 
upon some marked peculiarity of style. They were 
instructive as well as amusing. They abounded in 
references to current matters of thought. In every one 
of them were casual suggestions which often 'proved 
the key to open unknown apartments in the palace 
of truth ' and ' unexplored tracts in the paradise of 
sentiment that environs it. ' 

"I cannot recall a single feature of the life or the 
needs of such a club in which he was not in some 
way prominent, or to which he did not contribute. 
He adapted himself to every occasion. He was prompt 
in repartee and yet never cutting or unkind. He was 
always cheerful and genial. Social life was for him a 
relaxation from the cares and duties of his profession. 
He needed rest and he gave himself up to it and en- 
joyed it with the zest of a boy on his holiday. Yet 
he fully realized that there is work to be done even in 
such relaxation, and was ever ready to do his share 
and more in order to contribute to the general pleasure. 



HOME AND SOCIAL LIFE. 47 

I think he enjoyed fully as much the preparatory 
labor involved in the exercise of his wonderful powers, 
as he did those rare occasions when, perhaps a little 
wearied from the battles and toils of daily life, he sat 
as a silent listener. . . . He was an excellent actor, and 
upon occasion took a leading part in dramatic repre- 
sentations. I have alluded to his readiness at repartee. 
As Carlyle said of another: 'his sparkling sallies bub- 
bled up as from aerated natural fountains.' His vivid 
fancy, well stored memory and fluent language found 
expression in conversations which ministered to in- 
tellectual culture. . . . One cannot review or report 
such conversations. Their point or pungency are so 
connected with the special events which gave rise to 
them, they depend so much upon the atmosphere of 
the occasion and the frame of mind of those present 
that no account of them will give an adequate idea 
of their brilliancy. 

Some of Dr. Evans' humorous papers will be pub- 
lished in the proposed volume of Essays and Addresses. 
It will give the reader some idea of his fertility of re- 
source, to indicate here the titles of some. ' 'Apologia 
pro vita sua, or a Word for Loafers, by one of Them" 
may head the list. " Leaves out of the Autobiography 
of a poor young man " is in the same vein. In 
criticism we have exhaustive discussions of "Jack and 
Jill" and "There was a Man in our Town." Poetry 
is represented by an " Ode to Sublimity," and an "Ode 
to the Ant," besides parodies of Jean Ingelow and the 
Sweet Singer of Michigan. Prose parodies are "Dr. 
Isaac Splaudius " (Crawford) and "Incendiarism as a 
Fine Art" (DeQuincey). "Simon Firkin or the Career 
of an Ambitious Young Man " apparently belongs in 
the same category. "Anthropophagy: the Future De- 
velopment of the Race, or the Coming Cannibal," suf- 
ficiently explains itself, as does the title of the pseudo- 
scientific paper "Formicae." 



48 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

October 19, 187 1, Professor Evans was married to 
Miss Sarah E. Fry, of La Porte, Indiana. The union 
of hearts thus solemnized brought unalloyed happiness 
to both, and their affection grew deeper as the years 
passed by. Into the sanctities of home-life we get a 
glimpse in the two sonnets composed by the husband 
en the tenth and on the twentieth anniversary of their 
wedding : 

OCTOBER 19, 1881. 

" What 
For sweetness like the ten years wife, 
Whose customary love is not 
Her passion or her play, but life ! " 

[Coventry Patmore.] 

Tell me thy secret, Love, I thee entreat ! 

My secret he doth win who winneth me. 

Love unlocks Love ; its holy Mystery 

Forever grows more deep, more clear, more sweet. 

Love's hours teach him who loveth, to repeat 

The alphabet of yon celestial Law, 

Which to their central suns the worlds doth draw. 

Love's blissful years will nurture skill to spell 

The words in which the heart of heaven doth burn. 

Love's decades grasp the phrases wherein dwell 

The love and worship of the saints above, 

The blest divinity which seraphs learn. 

E'en thus the undying centuries will yearn 

To scale the untrodden, God-kissed altitude of love. 

OCTOBER 19, 1891. 

Lost in my bliss I marvel much to-day 
How Love's strange shepherding brings heart to heart 
By paths in their beginning far apart, 
Which yet beneath his staffs mysterious sway 
Draw nearer till they meet in one blest way 
Whose course doth follow Love's unerring chart, 
Whose steps are trained by Truth's divinest art, 
Whose goal is crowned with Joy's eternal ray. 

As now we reach our twentieth milestone, Sweet, 

Of sacred fellowship upon that road, 

We pause our altar-stone of help to raise, 

To breathe one prayer, to sing one hymn of praise 

For our one life, one trust, one joy, one load 

Resting the while at our dear Shepherd's feet. 

In September, 1874, Dr. and Mrs. Evans took pos- 
session of the residence in the seminary grounds occu- 



HOME AND SOCIAL LIFE. 49 

pied at one time by Dr. Allen and later by Dr. Henry 
A. Nelson. This home was theirs thenceforth, and it 
was the center of united affection working for a com- 
mon end. Speaking of the house soon after moving 
into it, Dr. Evans wrote to a friend in Wales: "The 
feature which I enjoy most of all is my new study, a 
room on the second floor front with three windows, 
two overlooking the campus and one to the east — as 
bright, cozy, quiet and cheerful a room for a study as 
I know. If I do not, like Milton, succeed in writing 
something that the world will not willingly let die, it 
will certainly not be the fault of my surroundings. " 
This study was always open to any one seeking advice 
or information, and the whole house was the scene of 
cordial hospitality to friends from near and from far. 
To the students of the seminary especially it was made 
attractive during their course, and they were warmly 
welcomed to it when they returned for a visit after 
their graduation. Its friendly atmosphere can not be 
described, but it is remembered by the many who en- 
joyed it. The crowning happiness came May 13, 1876, 
when a son was born in that home. His father writes 
soon after the event : ' ' The chief item of news from 
this household is 'all about the baby' who was born 
Saturday the 13th inst. He is a fine boy, fat and 
healthy, weighing nine pounds, and twenty-one inches 
long. . . . It is too early to say much about him. 
The general impression seems to be that he favors his 
mother. His hair will probably have a tinge of his 
father's. I wouldn't call him a superlatively handsome 
baby though I am his father, but he has a good bright 
face, and a dark blue eye full of life and, I suspect, of 
mischief. He is unusually vigorous, hits out square 
from the shoulder and kicks magnificently. On the 
whole I am not inclined to dispute what the ladies who 



50 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

have seen him say, that he is a baby to be proud of. 
May God grant that, if his life be spared, he may be 
a true and good man." 

The life in this home moved on quietly and happily 
through years filled with the literary work already indi- 
cated. The shadow which began to fall, took the shape 
of physical infirmity. Dr. Evans had always had 
remarkable vigor of body. For some years after he 
became professor in the seminary he was foremost in 
the athletic sports of the students — played ball with all 
his might, rode horseback, walked all over the neigh- 
borhood, and in fact was known as a "muscular Chris- 
tian." It is not necessary here to detail the symptoms 
which gave him uneasiness and puzzled the physicians. 
After various experiments in treatment, he decided to 
spend the summer of the year 1888 abroad. His va- 
cation was at first extended to six months, and later, 
he was given leave of absence for the year. Receiving 
no relief in the methods first tried, he consulted the 
eminent Sir Wm. Roberts, of Manchester, who discov- 
ered organic disease of the heart. He did not conceal 
from his patient the serious nature of the difficulty, but 
gave him reason to hope, that with care, he might 
enjoy some years of life and work. The remainder of 
the year was spent in rest and under treatment, and on 
his return the Professor took up his work with courage 
and cheerfulness. His disease made no sensible progress 
for over three years, and his labors as an instructor were 
never more successful than during these years. 

The trip to Europe was taken at the conclusion of 
twenty-five years of service in the Seminary. It was 
fitting that it should be marked in some special way. 
The students of the seminary, as a token of their 
appreciation, presented him, at this time, with a watch 
and chain. Dr. Evans' reply to the speech of presen- 



HOME AND SOCIAL LIFE. 5 I 

tation, touchingly expressed his deep and earnest 
affection for Lane Seminary. He said he had always 
been grateful for the providential events which had led 
him to Cincinnati, and as a student to Lane Seminary. 
The debt he owed to his instructors here, he could not 
measure. He began to love the seminary when a stu- 
dent, and his affection for it had deepened with each 
year of service. He owed a great deal to the students 
also, whom he had been permitted to teach, and he 
loved the classes in the institution now, and every 
member of each class. At the meeting the same year, 
the trustees of the seminary put on record their high 
appreciation of Dr. Evans and of his faithful service for 
twenty-five years in the following words (May I, i) 



" Whereas, the close of the past session marks the 
completion of twenty-five years of service in this insti- 
tution by our beloved Professor, the Rev. LI. I. Evans, 
D. D. ; therefore, 

"i. Resolved, That we record our sincere thanks- 
giving to Almighty God for the health He has given 
him, and the grace and power from on high, which 
have been added to his instruction. 

"2. We hereby tender our congratulations to Pro- 
fessor Evans, and assure him of our sincere and hearty 
appreciation of his scholarship, our confidence in his 
teaching power and our affection for him as a man and 
as a Christian. 

"3. We hereby grant Professor Evans any such 
extension of his summer vacation into the time of the 
next seminary year, as he may himself deem useful for 
the completion of his travel in foreign parts, and com- 
mend him and his to the good hand of our God whose 
are all our ways." 

Dr. Evans' continued interest in his work during his 
absence is indicated by the fact that he wrote to the 
class graduating in 1889, a pastoral letter which the 
class received and acknowledged with hearty affection. 
A copy of it is not in my possession. 



CLOSING YEARS. 

The winter after Dr. Evans' return from Europe 
showed renewed theological activity in the Presbyterian 
Church. The years since the reunion had been spent 
in developing the practical activities of the Church. 
It had been assumed that its doctrine was virtually 
one, and that this was sufficiently expressed in the Con- 
fession and Catechisms of the Westminster Assembly. 
So recently as 1881 it was asserted on the floor of the 
General Assembly that the terms of reunion pledged 
the Church to keep these historic monuments in the 
exact form in which the American Church had always 
received them. This point of view was so far aband- 
oned in 1889 that a decided movement was made 
towards a revision of the Confession, so far at least as 
to remove some extreme statements from that vener- 
able document. This movement culminated in the 
Assembly of 1890, which appointed a committee to 
revise the Confession. 

It need not be said that Dr. Evans took the liveliest 
interest in this movement. By conviction and by edu- 
cation he belonged to the New School branch of the 
Church. In the reunion he knew that that branch had 
made no surrender of principle. But he realized that 
the freer thought was now overshadowed by the pre- 
(52) .- • - • - - 



CLOSING YEARS. 53 

ponderant conservatism, especially of this region. So 
early as 1876 he wrote to his friend in Wales of one 
who ' ' is trying all he can to break down liberal Pres- 
byterianism. " In 1879 he writes again: " Sometimes 
I feel a little discouraged about the reactionary drift 
which seems now to be setting in in American Presby- 
terianism. I fear it will paralyze the power of the Church 
to stem the tide of unbelief. But it cannot always 
continue, nor, I trust, long." In 1883 he had an op- 
portunity, of which he availed himself, to speak for lib- 
erty of discussion. The occasion was Commencement 
day of that year, when addresses were made by two of the 
graduates, which were attacked by conservative ministers 
as " dangerous. " One of these , by Arthur J. Brown, 
was on " the Church of the Future ;" the other by A. A. 
Rogers on "Revision of the Westminster Symbols." 
The extremely mild progressiveness of these papers 
was criticised by some who were present and (more 
bitterly) by some who were absent. Dr. Evans exposed 
these critics in a vigorous article, a part of which is as 
follows : 

1 ' Your strictures on the delivery of Mr. Rogers' 
address impel me to make a few remarks in my own 
behalf, as one of those whose action in the premises 
has been subjected to criticism. I write only for my- 
self. (1) You say: 'the animadversions on it are not 
based upon the ground that revision is not a proper 
subject for investigation and discussion.' I question 
the authoritativeness of this statement. I challenge a 
poll of those who object to the speech. Without men- 
tioning names, I am confident that only a very small 
minority of them could be found to say that they are 
in favor of touching the standards at all. 

"(2) You say that 'nobody regards the Confession 
as infallible or immutable.' If the Professor of Syste- 
matic Theology in the Northwestern Seminary and the 
editor of the Presbyterian Banner do not hold that the 



54 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

Confession is immutable when they plead as an argu- 
ment against revision that under the terms of reunion 
'the Confession shall continue to be held,' then what 
do they mean? .... 

" (5) It would be interesting to know just what there 
is about this question of the revision of the standards 
which invests it with such peculiar sacredness. Can- 
didates for the ministry are permitted, yes, are encour- 
aged, nay more, are required to discuss the profoundest 
and most sacred of Scripture themes. They are set to 
tackle the problems of 4 fixed fate, free will, fore-knowl- 
edge absolute.' They are appointed to write in more 
or less luminous Latin, theses De Predestinatione , De 
Incamatione, De Trinitate. They are invited to exegete 
the knottiest passages of Paul, to write sermons and 
lectures on each and every theme of which the Stand- 
ards treat. But when it comes to the discussion of 
the statements — human uninspired statements — of the 
Standards, the caveat is thundered forth: Procul Pro- 
fanii at least Procid Juvenes ! You are too young, too 
immature, too inexperienced ! Is a young man com- 
petent to write a thesis or sermon on predestination in 
phraseology of his own, who is not competent to discuss 
the phraseology of the Confession?" 

Dr. Evans had therefore taken his position squarely 
in favor of free discussion long before the revision 
movement was begun. After its beginning he writes 
again to his friend in Wales (Nov. 1889): "lam still 
avoiding all public work and shall adhere to that rule 
for some time to come. This cuts me off from the 
rather exciting discussions going on in our church As- 
semblies on the question of revising the Confession of 
Faith — against which position I chafe sometimes, as I 
feel I should like to have a hand in the fight. How- 
ever I am doing a little writing on the subject in the 
religious newspapers, and mean, if I am able, to write 
a good deal more before the row is over. I care more 
for the discussion than I do for the Revision itself. I 
think a fine opportunity is presenting itself for putting 



CLOSING YEARS. 55 

in a few earnest blows, which I hope may tell, for a 

liberal progressive and more distinctly Biblical theology.' ' 
In accordance with this view Dr. Evans wrote two 
articles for the Herald and Presbyter and two for the 
Independent which gave no uncertain sound in favor of 
progress. From one of these is taken the following 
significant passage : 

"But there is a more serious side to the case. Let 
me emphasize the fact that the opposition to revision 
is confessedly the expression of a serene and solid 
(shall I write it stolid T) satisfaction with the status quo 
of Presbyterianism and Calvinism. Why agitate for 
anything better than we have? Why strive for any 
higher or larger success than we have been all along 
achieving ? ' All the past successes and victories of 
Presbyterianism have been accomplished under the old 
Confession. ... Is it not better for the church to 
work on the very same old basis, in the very same 
straight line ? ' Is this, I ask, the spirit which should 
rule the church to-day? Is this the view we should 
take of its achievements and equipments for work and 
conquest? Glorious as may be the record of West- 
minster Presbyterianism for two and a half centuries, 
of 'the theological learning and pulpit eloquence, the 
spiritual life and practical zeal, the heroic endeavor and 
consecrated service of that body of Christians who 
have believed in the theology of Westminster divines,* 
shall we allow it to foster that spiritual complacency 
which is the bane alike of Christians and of the church ? 
Shall we be content that the future shall be simply a 
rehearsal of our past? Was this the spirit of Paul, 
whom we are so much given to vaunt as our spiritual 
father? Is this forgetting the things which are behind 
and reaching forth unto those things which are before? 
Is this becoming all things to all men? Is this going 
in at every open door? Is this watching for great 
doors and effectual ? Is this redeeming the opportu- 
nity, fighting as not beating the air, striking so that 
every blow will leave a black eye behind it ? Is this 
building up the church as the temple of God, as the 



$6 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

body of Christ, as the fullness of Him that filleth all in 
all ? Is this exulting in God who always leadeth us in 
triumph in Christ? If this be Calvinism, then what is 
Paulinism? Nay, is not this rather that nightmare of 
Calvinism, that dogmatic fatalism, the effort to get rid 
of which has probably as much to do with the Revision 
movement as any one cause? 

"Let us glance a moment at another phase of this 
same phlegmatic temper, in which, sad to say, the 
champions of our confessional go-cart show to less ad- 
vantage even than the champions of the liturgical go- 
cart. The latter have at least the enthusiasm of their 
convictions. They are benevolently anxious that the 
merits of their go-cart should be appreciated, and they 
look forward with confidence to the "day when every- 
body will use it. Not so with the champions of the 
confessional go-cart. The unpopularity of their peram- 
bulator does not seem to distress them particularly. 
Apparently they expect nothing else. They see no 
good reason why if Mohammed declines to come to the 
mountain, the mountain should go to Mohammed (sic 
Dr. Shedd). They have little or no hope that it will 
ever be found practicable to make a statement of Cal- 
vinism that will commend it even to Evangelical Chris- 
tians who thus far have not accepted it (sic Dr. DeWitt). 
They contemplate without discomposure the alternative 
of joining other communions for those who do not like 
our system (sic Dr. Patton). But are we reduced to 
this ? Is this the outcome of two centuries and a half 
of Westminster Confessionalism ? Is it strange that 
some of us are getting out of patience with this dogmatic 
phlegm ; that we are somewhat tired of a Confessional- 
ism which even in the third century of its existence is 
content to be still on the defensive, to be still explaining 
and re-explaining, ever at the end finding its explana- 
tions useless and beginning all over again; which de- 
spairs of making any impression on the Evangelical 
Christianity outside of its own bounds ; and with face to 
the past and back to the future drones monotonous 
paeans of self-glorification? In all this we see nothing 
whereof to be proud, nothing to stir the blood, nothing 



CLOSING YEARS. 57 

to inspire enthusiasm. We would fain see a Confes- 
sionalism of another type ; one that dared trust itself; 
that put other creeds, if need be, on the defensive; that 
carried in its ov/n bosom the psean of victory ; that bore 
within itself the promise and potency of development ; 
that could adapt itself more intelligently to the new 
conditions of scientific, critical and religious thinking — a 
Confessionalism so distinctively and ringingly Scriptural 
that all Christians who accept and honor the Bible as 
the Word of God would hear the echo of its ring in 
their own inmost convictions — a Confessionalism that 
would encourage its adherents to go forward with a 
faith born of the assurance that the future is its own. 
Is such a Confessionalism possible? Why not, Cal- 
vinism? Why not? 

"Why not? I ask. Is Calvinism to be forever on 
the defensive ? forever pleading with a half-apologetic, 
half-defiant snarl, that we know our system * is a hard 
system, ' that it has ' its hard side, ' ' its hard features ' 
— but ' there are proof-texts ' ? And after all, * why 
should our doctrines keep men out of the church? 
They are not asked to accept them' (sic Dr. Patton). 
So ! And what then is the raison d'etre of our Presbyte- 
rianism ? * To be a witness-bearing church' (sic Dr. Pat- 
ton). But to bear witness to what? Why to that same 
body of doctrines which, if we are to accept the dog- 
matic confession respecting them, are irremediably, 
hopelessly hard; which must nevertheless be unflinch- 
ingly and unalterably retained in all their hardness; but 
which, notwithstanding all this, only a small percentage 
of the witness-bearers of the church are asked or bound 
to accept ! What an extraordinary position for a great 
witness-bearing church to occupy, to be sure! " 

This eloquent presentation of the claims upon us for 
a revision of our creed, is one of the most mature as 
well as one of the happiest expressions of the author's 
theological progressiveness. That progressiveness was 
a year later called out by an event which, as we now 
know, defeated the revision movement in the church, 
and changed the current of Professor Evans' own life. 



58 LLEWEYLYN IOAN EVANS. 

This was the inauguration of Professor Charles A. 
Briggs to the chair of Biblical Theology in the Union 
Theological Seminary. The now famous inaugural ad- 
dress was widely discussed throughout the church, and 
resolutions calling the attention of the General Assem- 
bly to its contents, were early offered in the Presbytery 
of Cincinnati. Dr. Evans on hearing the clamor raised 
about the inaugural, at once went carefully over the 
work entitled, "Whither?" a book containing the fuller 
expression of Dr. Briggs* theological views. He came 
to the conclusion that the author was within the liberty 
allowed by the Confession. It soon became evident, 
that the opposition was based on the extreme con- 
servative view of inspiration. This view Dr. Evans 
had never held. At his ordination he had disavowed 
it. When Drs. Hodge and Warfield advocated it, Dr. 
Evans said, in private conversation, "they can not force 
such a doctrine down our throats." Many years ago 
he pointed out to the present writer that when we ac- 
knowledge the Scriptures to be an infallible rule, we do 
not affirm them to be inerrant in their statements of 
history and science. In his article on the Doctrinal 
significance of [New Testament] Revision, he had 
pointed out that inspiration is not adequately stated in 
current theories. He adds: "It is safe to assume that 
any theory of the subject which is not elastic enough 
to touch all the facts in the case is liable to break." 
When the Briggs' case was first discussed, he said to 
one of his colleagues (who interested himself in getting 
Dr. Briggs' transfer disapproved), "it will not do at 
this day to condemn any man on the theory of iner- 
rancy." 

The state of things which confronted us was this: 
Resolutions were introduced in Cincinnati Presbytery, 
condemning a member of another presbytery, and (in 



CLOSING YEARS. 59 

effect) overturing the General Assembly to disapprove 
his election. These resolutions were based mainly on 
a theory of inspiration, which Dr. Evans had never held 
and never taught, and which he believed to be contrary 
to the facts. He was not the man to keep silent at 
such a time. Although he had not spoken in public for 
a long time, he resolved to oppose these resolutions in 
Presbytery. When they were called up, he argued 
against them, and succeeded in getting their considera- 
tion postponed until a later meeting. He saw, however, 
that a mere debate on the floor of Presbytery, did not 
meet the exigency. He had already begun the prepa- 
ration of a thorough discussion of the main question. 
This he read in two successive meetings of the Presby- 
terian Ministerial Association, speaking nearly two hours 
each time. In the state of his health at the time this 
was a clear case of not counting his life dear, that he 
might advance the truth. His friends were much grat- 
ified to observe that the serious strain did not seriously 
affect his strength at the time. 

The paper on Biblical Scholarship and Inspiration 
read at this time and afterwards published,* is a noble 
plea for freedom of Biblical study against dogmatic 
assumptions. It begins with a statement of the imme- 
diate occasion for the paper, but dismisses it for the 
larger question involved : ' ' The movement, of which I 
have spoken, and the utterances in the press and else- 
where which have accompanied and interpreted its in- 
ception and purpose, convince me that the time has 
come for a definite understanding respecting the rights 
of Christian Scholarship in the Biblical departments of 
our theological seminaries." He then states his per- 



*Now contained in " Inspiration and Inerrancy," by Henry 
Preserved Smith, published by Robert Clarke & Co., Cincinnati, 
1893. 



60 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

sonal interest in the matter; acknowledges the obli- 
gation the professor is under to do nothing that can 
embarrass the minister in his pulpit; but claims reci- 
procity, and asserts that there are some conclusions 
of Biblical theology which we must take into account. 
He gives Dr. Charles Hodge's definition of inspiration, 
and that of Drs. A. A. Hodge and Warfield. This a 
priori definition he finds to be unscientific, and "not 
only unscientific, but irreverent, presumptuous, lacking 
in the humility with which we should approach a Divine 
Supernatural Fact." This position he establishes by 
the analogies of creation and the Incarnation. He 
then sketches the recent progress of Biblical science 
and contrasts its method with that of dogmatic the- 
ology. Among the conclusions of Biblical science he 
singles out those concerning the composition of the 
Gospels for somewhat extended treatment. He points 
out how incompatible these are with * ' the ipsissima 
verba original autograph theory" of inspiration. He 
then gives some specific difficulties in the way of that 
theory, and closes with a positive formulation of the 
doctrine of Paul in I Cor. ii, 6- 1 6, and a discussion of 
the Confession. 

The time will come when, as Dr. Evans himself 
hoped, his views will ' ' obtain from the Church, in its 
ultimate decision, the recognition which is claimed for 
them as Scriptural, evangelical, confessional, scientific, 
reverent, and indispensable to the satisfactory and per- 
manent solution of the great problems of our age and 
to the harmony of religious faith and scientific and crit- 
ical processes and results." Even at the present time 
it is impossible to read this paper without being struck 
by the revelation of the author's heart. That heart was 
a heart bound up in the Word of God. Its impassioned 
argument against a false theory of Scripture is based 



CLOSING YEARS. 6 1 

on a living faith In that Scripture, and a desire that it 
should not be put in a false light. Dr. Evans saw that 
to commit the Church to the theory he opposed would be 
suicidal, certainly against the best interest of the Church 
itself. That interest was as near to Dr. Evans' heart 
as it was to the heart of the most conservative. To 
him as to the other, inspiration was one of the greatest 
of divine facts. In the course of this discussion he 
says: 

"What now is the function of inspiration? In a 
word, it is to mediate the revelation ; to interpret, to 
record, to apply it ; to put us, to put all generations 
under the immediate power of those divine realities ; 
so far as possible to bring us face to face with this in- 
comparable drama of Power and Love Divine, face to 
face with God revealing Himself. All through the ages 
the Spirit of God was teaching one and another to un- 
derstand, to interpret, to record, to apply that wondrous 

process And so to-day, and through all 

time, in all that makes the Bible the power of God 
unto salvation, it is the Voice of God, the Word of 
God, the supreme, the only infallible authority." 

It will seem incredible to a future generation that a 
man holding such a doctrine of inspiration should be re- 
garded with suspicion, and denounced as a rationalist, 
because he refused to affirm the extra confessional doc- 
trine of inerrancy. But such was the case. The 
spirit of heresy-hunting was let loose, and no piety, 
scholarship, or services were enough to protect from 
its attacks. 

It will be readily understood that Dr. Evans watched 
with intense interest the course of controversy. After 
the publication of his paper he had little to say. But 
he visited Detroit and was an interested spectator of 
the General Assembly, which disapproved the election 
of Dr. Briggs. His attitude in this whole matter is 



62 LLEWEYLN IOAN EVANS. 

well indicated by the following found among his 
papers : 

HERESY HUNTING. 

For truth's worst foe is he who claims 

To act as God's avenger, 
And deems beyond his sentry-beat 

The crystal walls in danger. 
Who sets for heresy his trap 

Of verbal quirk and quibble, 
And weeds the garden of the Lord 

With Satan's borrowed dibble. 

The overwhelming majority by which Dr. Briggs was 
disapproved in this Assembly and the continuance of 
attack by the denominational press led Dr. Evans to 
look with favor upon a call from the Theological Col- 
lege at Bala, Wales — the place of his early studies. 
Previous attempts had been made to call him to his 
native country and had been unsuccessful. This one 
came with special strength, first, because it was given 
after the publication of the paper on Biblical Scholar- 
ship, and with the assurance that the views there ex- 
pressed would be no bar to his usefulness. In the 
second place, it was warmly urged by the distinguished 
Principal Edwards, with whom he had been on terms 
of intimate friendship for many years. In the third 
place, his experience of the climate of Wales at his 
recent visit gave him the most favorable anticipations 
as to his health. Finally, (and there is reason to 
believe that this reason was the decisive one) he had 
reason to hope that in his new position he would be 
favorably situated for study and the completion of his 
literary work. Discussion of theological questions he 
enjoyed. But for the polemics of the religious (!) press 
with its insinuations of ' unsoundness' and 'false teach- 
ing' he had no taste. For these reasons he accepted 
the call in the autumn of 1891. Had his health been 
firm there is no reason to doubt that he would have 



CLOSING YEARS. 6$ 

preferred to remain in this county and fight the battle 
of a comprehensive and generous Presbyterianism. 

As it was, he probably underrated the strain he 
would undergo in leaving this country. His affection- 
ate nature had struck its roots deep in the soil where 
it had been planted nearly thirty-five years. He had 
testified to his love for the Seminary on more than one 
occasion. The activities of a lifetime had centered about 
this institution. His health might not have suffered so 
much had it not been for the grippe which attacked him 
late in 1891. He did not seem to regain his strength 
after this attack. March 15, the Trustees of the Sem- 
inary met and accepted his resignation. In April came 
an additional strain in the death of a little boy (son of 
the present writer) to whom he was much attached. 
It is not necessary to linger over the remaining weeks — 
the leave-taking, the voyage, the meeting with friends 
in Wales, and the severe attacks from which he suffered. 
At times he seemed to improve. The house at Bala 
was taken and furnished. In the large garden he spent 
many happy hours and in his stronger days he would drive 
about the beautiful country. He was enthusiastically 
welcomed by old and new friends. A public meeting 
of welcome was held, at which however he was not able 
to be present. Soon after landing he suffered from a 
severe attack of angina pectoris. The alarm of the phy- 
sicians caused Mrs. Evans to cry out in the anguish of 
her heart: "do not leave me," with other words of 
grief. In Christian trust he said : (speaking with diffi- 
culty) "it is as the Lord wills; if His time has come I 
am ready to go." He then calmly gave her his mes- 
sages for the son, absent at school. From this at- 
tack he rallied and seemed to be gaining. Two days 
before his death he wrote a bright and hopeful letter to 
his son, speaking of his feeling that he had really begun 



64 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

to gain. Sunday, July 24, he was planning for his 
work, and spent a part of the day in the sunny garden. 
He spoke of writing letters but deferred it until he 
should be a little stronger. Late at night another se- 
vere paroxysm came on and refused to yield to any 
remedies, After great suffering he became unconscious 
and early in the morning of July 25, 1892, his loving 
loyal spirit departed to meet the Saviour of his love — 
the Saviour whom he had served so well. The frail house 
of clay was brought back to this country and rests near 
the scene of his earthly labors. 

Ecclesiastical bodies in this country and in Great 
Britain passed resolutions honoring his memory. Per- 
sonal friends and those who had known him through 
his writings, published tributes to his memory on both 
sides of the sea. Numerous letters assured the bereaved 
wife and son of love and sympathy. How little such 
efforts can accomplish, none realize better than their 
authors. The lesson of a life like his must be felt 
rather than expressed. The deep sense of personal loss 
testified by many friends, shows how distinctly the les- 
son was felt in his case. He was our friend: the 
heartache does not stop to analyze its sensations. I 

But, if we can not analyze the grief, we can draw 
one or two obvious conclusions. Friendship is the re- 
sult of personal character and personal character may 
help and stimulate those who come in contact with it. 
In the case of Dr. Evans, we must remember some 
things which will be a joy and help to us so long as we 
live. For one thing he was thoroughly and transpar- 
ently sincere. "Clear your mind of cant," he used 
often to quote from Dr. Johnson. Few men have so 
successfully kept their minds clear of cant. This was 
true of him intellectually, as well as spiritually. Intel- 
lectually he sought the truth, the reality of things. "In 



CLOSING YEARS. 65 

the study of Biblical questions, which my vocation has 
made necessary, I have both striven to keep an open 
mind, and earnestly sought the guidance of a wisdom 
higher than my own." This sentence from his last 
great work defines his whole intellectual attitude. And 
spiritually, he showed the same sincerity. Guilelessness 
was so thoroughly his own attitude that he could not 
suspect another of a willingness to deceive. In his 
business dealings with men this was to his disadvantage, 
for he could not be made to see the necessity of ordi- 
nary checks and precautions. 

The manysidedness of his character was coupled 
with a modesty that sometimes seemed to his friends 
excessive. This was not bashfulness, which is often 
self-conceit, but it was self-forgetfulness, unconscious- 
ness that he was in any sense superior to others, with 
frank and generous appreciation of all that was good 
in them. With this went unvarying cheerfulness of 
mood. His merry times were not offset by times of 
depression. Even in severe illness and when unex- 
pected misfortune came upon him, he never lost the 
habit of looking at the bright side. Quiet heroism 
marked the severe attacks which came towards the. close 
of life, and those nearest to him never heard a murmur 
of impatience. 

The root of these graces was deep and fervent piety. 
His faith was fixed upon his Lord Christ, as, following 
Luther, he loved to call him. Supreme loyalty to him 
was the spring of his daily life. Like Paul, his great 
aim was to know Christ. Hence, intellectually, he 
made all knowledge tributary to this. His daily study 
was a joy to him, because it concerned itself with the 
life of his Lord. But spiritually also he fed on this life. 
His was no mere philosophical or historical construction 
of the facts he studied. He applied them in his own 



66 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

life. He grew into the divine life as he apprehended 
it. One of his students, the last year of his life (a 
young man from Japan) asked him one day in the class, 
" how he had attained such holiness." The question 
shows the deep impression made by Dr. Evans' spir- 
itual life upon those brought under his influence. 
"Personal Christianity," was the subject of his last 
address before Lane Seminary, and it sums up the pur- 
pose of his life. A result of this supreme loyalty to 
Christ, was ardent affection for the Scriptures, which 
contain the word of Christ. " If there is anything in 
which my whole being is wrapped up, it is the study 
and teaching of the Word of God. If there is any. 
thing that I love with every fibre of my every heart- 
string, it is that blessed old book. If there is anything 
for which, so far as I know myself, I would gladly lay 
down my life, it is that this book may be known and 
read throughout the length and breadth of the world, 
as the guide of lost souls to heaven." Such was his 
language at the time when he knew he would be ac- 
cused of "attacking the Bible," and no one who knew 
him could doubt the truth of the avowal. 

Of intellectual endowments — keen and brilliant power 
of acquisition, critical insight, philosophic breadth, 
vividness of imagination, richness of expression, felicity 
of style, the power of picturesque arrangement of 
thought — of these I will not speak. One quality came 
out conspicuously in the late controversy — the courage 
of conviction. Dr. Evans might have excused himself 
from coming to the defense of an unpopular cause. 
His health was not firm. He had been warned to 
avoid excitement and exertion. He knew the temper 
of his audience. He might have pleaded that he must 
not imperil the popularity of the seminary. But when 
he saw clearly (as he did from the beginning) that 



CLOSING YEARS. 6j 

freedom of teaching was endangered, he had no more 
question. What he could do to save the church from 
self-stultification should be done, regardless of majori- 
ties. 

And with this steadfastness was joined a living hope 
for the future. Among the cherished words he spoke 
none are more cherished than his words of comfort and 
hope over the grave, as it seemed to swallow up the 
joy of life. His affection was fixed upon a living 
Christ, and by the eye of faith he seemed to see Him 
and to direct the look of others to the same bright 
vision. "It is not our loved ones," he said, "who 
have been translated into that life, who should be 
called 'the dead' or 'the dying.' We are the dead, 
we are the dying, for what is our life here but a con- 
tinual dying, a being unclothed that we may be clothed 
upon? Let us not think of our departed loved ones as 
dwelling in the darkness of the tomb. Let us not seek 
our living among the dead." This, a part of his last 
public utterance, comforts us in our bereavement, and 
teaches us to look forward to the time, when with him, 
we shall live that larger, higher life. 



NOTE. 

The following sermons have been chosen with the 
aim of exhibiting various sides of Professor Evans' 
thought. Some favorites asked for by friends could 
not be included because the manuscript was imperfect. 
In some instances a word has been supplied (as in the 
quotations already given in the biographical sketch) and 
indicated by [square] brackets. 

All who read the book are under especial obligation 
to Mrs. F. E. Cone and the Rev. J. H. Cone, who pre- 
pared the copy of the sermons for the printer. Mr. Cone 
has also kindly read the proofs of the whole volume. 



(68) 



SERMONS. 
i. 

FAITH, HOPE, LOVE. 

I Corinthians 13: 13. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the 
greatest of these is charity. 

Religion is an assemblage of great things. Its 
sources are great: not cisterns but oceans, vast, un- 
fathomable, deep crying unto deep. Its powers are 
great, great with the energies of Omnipotence, with 
the thunder-might of God. Its results are great; they 
are commensurate with the purposes of Deity, and they 
fill eternity. Greatness is for the most part a relative 
term. There is indeed a greatness which is absolute, 
independent of all comparison. Yet the greatness 
even of realities which are positively such is known 
through the relation which they sustain to our capaci- 
ties. Greatness thus considered is that attribute of an 
object which calls forth all the resources of the power, 
or powers that have to do with it, which fills or more 
than fills the measure of any capacity, causing it to 
expand, constraining the mind to enlarge itself toward 
it. There are objects and qualities toward which the 
mind in its action upon them is constrained to contract 
itself, to narrow itself down, as there are material ob- 
jects, the minuteness of which requires that the organs 

(69) 



70 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

which observe them and the powers which handle them 
should reduce themselves as much as possible before 
they can do much with them. 

Again there are objects and qualities which just meet 
the measure of the powers which operate them. Such 
are most of the facts and objects with which we have 
to do. They can neither be called great nor small. 
They were not intended either to overwhelm us by their 
greatness, or to evade us by their littleness. We can 
not take our microscopes with us everywhere to hunt up 
the small: neither can we carry our Archimedean 
levers everywhere to overturn mountains or to move 
worlds. We can not be always straining ourselves lift- 
ing heavy weights ; we can not accomplish much if 
we do nothing but pick up grains. God has therefore 
made most of the usefuls of life neither great nor 
small, but they may be easily handled, freely used, and 
converted to our purpose. 

There are some things which challenge the powers, 
which draw out the capacities by which they are availa- 
ble. They exceed the average magnitude and weight 
of things with which we have to do. We are con- 
scious of a strain on our faculties in our effort to grasp 
and use them. They tax our resources to the full. 
They excite our desires and aspirations : they stimulate 
the outreachings of our powers. These we call great. 

It is possible for a man by constant intercourse with 
the little to have his views and powers contracted, until 
the small no longer seems such. One who has lived 
among the mountains when he first settles down on a 
rolling prairie feels contempt for the wavy hillocks 
about him, but ere long familiarity breeds in this in- 
stance something better than contempt. After a while 
they become a tolerable substitute for the half-for- 
gotten cloud-capped ranges far away. And so with 



SERMONS. 71 

moral realities. One who has associated with men of 
intelligence and moral worth, when he abandons their 
society for that of the brutal and degraded, experiences 
at first a feeling of revulsion — it may be of scorn : but 
a few years lower his standard of taste and sympathy, 
so that his present companions become great and good 
enough for him. This is one of the curses of sin. It 
brings down the soul to a state of insensibility in re- 
spect to the moral littleness and unworthiness, of the 
pursuits and characters with which it becomes iden- 
tified. 

On the contrary it is possible for any sense intellect- 
ual or moral, to grow, and for the views which come 
through it to be enlarged, until that which, at the first 
seems great, presently becomes familiar, and soon 
small. That which seems great, I say, for to the thought- 
ful and sympathetic observer, the truly great never 
becomes familiar, still less small. Things which are 
essentially great are great always to the soul that 
understands them. But that which is relatively great, 
which is great only for the time, and in relation to our 
present stage of development will, in a more advanced 
stage, be rightly regarded as of less importance. This 
principle is involved in the argument of which the text 
is a part. " Charity never faileth: but whether there 
be prophecies, they shall fail : whether there be tongues 
they shall cease : whether there be knowledge it shall 
vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy 
in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then 
that which is in part shall be done away. When I 
was a child I spake as a child, I understood as a child, 
I thought as a child : but when I became a man I put 
away childish things. For now we see through a glass 
darkly, but then face to face : now I know in part, but 
then shall I know even as also I am known. And now 



72 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

abideth faith, hope, charity, these three : but the great- 
est of these is charity." The gift of prophecy, the 
gift of tongues, the gift of science, however great and 
important they may be, at a certain point, can not be 
carried up through all the stages of Christian develop- 
ment. They belong to the period of childhood; we 
go beyond them ; they are partial and temporary ; they 
are to give way to that which is perfect. But faith, 
hope, love, are great always ; they abide forever. We 
can grow up to the former, we can come up to their 
altitude ; we may grow yet higher, until we look down 
on them ; we may outgrow them, until we think them 
small, as the man outgrows the thoughts, feelings and 
ambitions of the child. But there are things which we 
are never to outgrow, which rise as we rise, which tower 
always above us, as when, in climbing a mountain, the 
sky remains no less high, the stars no less distant than 
before. They grow as we grow; as we increase in 
strength, they increase in weight ; they always require 
effort, energy, to possess and to use them. To receive 
them the mind must always expand itself. To employ 
them our powers must always exert themselves. These 
realities, experiences and exercises deserve to be 
called great. They abide in their grandeur, their power 
and their supremacy. " Now abideth faith, hope, char- 
ity, these three." all of which are great, all of which are 
eternal, " but the greatest of these is charity." " And 
now abideth Faith." This grace is permanent. It will 
never pass away. It will never give way to anything 
else. It will never become anything else. It will be 
glorified, made perfect. For like every other perfection 
it is here in its beginning, in its chrysalis state only. The 
faith of the future will be to the faith of the present like 
the winged butterfly to the creeping caterpillar. But it will 
never lose its distinctive character. It will always be faith. 



SERMONS. 73 

Take any definition of it that you will. Regard it in 
its most restricted technical sense, as reliance on Christ. 
Will the Christian ever lose that ? Will he ever cast it 
away from him ? W T ill he ever remove himself from 
that sure foundation, so tried, so precious, the Rock of 
Ages ? Will he ever build on any other name ? Will he 
ever out-grow his faith in the Redeemer ? How can he ? 
He cannot undo that which has been done ; he cannot 
change the past ; he cannot dispose of the fact that he 
was a sinner, ruined, lost, not to be saved without an 
atonement; that such an atonement has been made; 
that he was saved only by accepting that atonement, by 
appropriating Christ ; that he was received only through 
the mediation and intercession of Christ ; that it was 
through his merits that he entered heaven, and enjoyed 
the favor of God and that he stands before God accepted 
in the Beloved. These facts he will never be able to 
change; and how can he forego his reliance on Christ? 
And even if he could, think you that he would ? The 
Saviour who visited him in his distress, who pitied him 
in his misery, who strengthened him in his weakness, 
who healed him in his disorders, whose right hand sup- 
ported him in all dangers, and brought him at last to 
heaven — is it possible that the Christian should ever 
give him up and fall back to rely on himself? Will the 
time ever come, when he will wish to say, Christ was 
my salvation, but he is no longer ; he was my righteous- 
ness, but he is no longer; he was my mediator and 
advocate before God, but I have no further need of him. 
I can appear for myself, and plead my own cause. 
No ! through all eternity, Christ will be to the saints, all 
the foundation of their hope, the rock of their faith. 
In this sense it will be true forever that ' ' Faith abideth. " 

Take the more general view of faith, as trust in God. 
Will God ever change ? Will he be less worthy of your 



74 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

trust? Shall we ever become independent of his sup- 
port? Is not his kingdom an everlasting kingdom, and 
is not his will the ground of all our hopes and plans ? 
Will not our success and our blessedness depend for- 
ever on the personal superintendence exerted by God 
over our individual interests? Is not this God our guide 
forever and ever ? It is true that if we are sons of God, 
dangers which encompass us here will one day be left 
behind, that we shall be secure from harm ; but why ? 
Because we are nearer to God, but being nearer shall we 
trust him any the less? The child when beset by dan- 
ger flees to his father for safety, because he trusts in 
his power to save him, and all the time that the danger 
threatens him, nestling in his father's arms he trusts him 
and feels secure. But when the danger is past and 
when his father still holds him to his heart and causes 
him to forget his fears by soothing words and loving 
embracements, does he cease trusting his father? And 
how can the child of God, when his father takes him 
home to himself, and bestows on him crowns of glory 
and rejoicing, wiping away all tears from his eyes, and 
surrounding him with the embraces of eternal love; — 
how can the child ever forget to trust the father ? 

Take a still more general conception of faith, that 
which is presented in the Bible statement, "Faith is 
the substance (certainty) of things hoped for, the evidence 
(conviction) of things not seen." In this sense at least 
it is supposed by many that the functions of faith will 
some time cease. There will be no further occasion for 
its exercise when the things which we now hope for 
are possessed, and when the things which are now un- 
seen become objects of immediate contemplation and 
enjoyment. But this supposition assumes that all the 
objects of faith and hope, all the unseen realities toward 
which the heart goes forth in expectation, desire, and 



SERMONS. 75 

love, will become visible, tangible possessions, that they 
will all become ours in a sense different from what they are 
now. Certainly this is true in respect to many of those 
realities, but not in respect to all. However much the 
sphere of possession may enlarge, there will always re- 
main a beyond. The larger the horizon of sight, the 
larger the firmament of faith. It is true that some ob- 
jects of faith become objects of sight and knowledge, 
but it must be remembered that the objects of faith are 
at the same time multiplied. For everything that is 
seen or known brings with it something new to be be- 
lieved. 

Still further; the enlargement and elevation of knowl- 
edge, gives greater dignity and nobleness, to the power 
of faith. The child believes many things on testimony 
and on the authority of others, which when he has 
grown to be a man he finds of his own knowledge to be 
true ; and the enlarged and enlightened knowledge of his 
manhood contains many things that were not contained 
either in the knowledge or faith of earlier years ; but he 
also finds more to believe, and how much nobler and 
better after all the faith of the man, when real and vital, 
than that of the child ! How much more intelligent, 
expansive, inspiring ! The same will be true forever. 
With the extension of the powers, with the increase of 
the knowledge, and the greater breadth and depth of 
the soul's life, its faith will embrace more, appropriate 
more, bring more in, and send more out. It will be- 
come a more exalted power, investing man and his life 
with greater nobleness, and crowning him with greater 
blessedness. But as I have already intimated there are 
realities which must ever remain objects of faith, which 
can never be otherwise possessed. 

All that pertains to the interior character and glory 
of God, all that can not be revealed immediately to the 



j6 LLEWEtYN IOAN EVANS. 

mind as the light is revealed to the eye, all truths, prin- 
ciples, laws, which can only be symbolized or shadowed 
forth, these must always continue to be apprehended 
and appropriated through faith. And in the future 
— in heaven — realities such as these will be indefinitely 
multiplied. We seem oftentimes to entertain very 
gross and sensual conceptions of the heavenly life and 
of the realities with which it communes. We call them 
spiritual, it is true, but we use the word in a vague, 
general way, to indicate simply that the objects, pur- 
suits and enjoyments of heaven, are much more ethereal 
than those of earth. The life of heaven we regard as 
essentially a life of sight — of direct contemplation, of 
tangible possession and enjoyment. Now, it is un- 
doubtedly true that more — much more — will be brought 
within our immediate reach than here. With the ren- 
ovation of all the powers of body and mind, which will 
follow the resurrection and our introduction into another 
sphere, will come the multiplication of those things 
with which we can directly communicate. We shall 
come into close contact with many more realities and 
facts there than here, we shall see more, hear more, 
of the facts and realities of being. But is this the 
only or principal gain which we may look for in the 
future ? By no means. It is not in the circle of per- 
ception that the greatest enlargement is to take place. 
We must remember that in heaven as in earth, we are 
to have a two-fold nature ; a material nature, refined, it 
is true, purified, immeasurably elevated above any we 
have now, and brought into the closest sympathy with 
the higher nature, but still material; and the higher or 
spiritual nature, also renewed, enlarged, prepared for 
a higher and more glorious career. There will be the 
spirit and the spiritual body of which Paul speaks. 
And corresponding to this two-fold nature, there will 



SERMONS. 77 

be a tv/o-Fold heaven — a sensible heaven and a spiritual 
heaven ; a world of glory and beauty and joy, appeal- 
ing to the lower of our two natures, to the spiritual 
body, and a nobler world of grander glory, of diviner 
beauty, and more spiritual joy, appealing to the higher. 
Now, there are many whose anticipations of future 
blessedness do not reach much higher than the lower, 
the sensible heaven. They think of it as a Paradise of 
flowers and fruits, and groves and odors unknown to 
earthly climes, a magnificent expanse of sublimity and 
loveliness, flooded with perpetual sunshine, thronged 
with hosts in shining white, melodious with the harping 
and songs of joyous worshipers, who spend their eter- 
nity in the immediate contemplation of God, and in per- 
sonal communion with the Lamb that sitteth on the 
throne. Now, there can be no doubt, as I have al- 
ready said, that heaven will be a glorious place for 
eye and ear, and for every perceptive and receptive fac- 
ulty. The love of visible beauty, harmony and sub- 
limity will be gratified there in a manner and degree 
beyond all our present conceptions. There will be 
personal fellowship with Christ, and a face to face be- 
holding of specific manifestations of God's glory, of 
which all earthly manifestations are dim foreshadow- 
ings, as the morning star prophesies the sun. But all 
this will be but the threshold of heaven; the outer 
porch of the temple. Beyond all this will be the 
inner courts and the Holy of Holies. The highest 
glory of heaven will be the spiritual. It will be a 
world for the heart, the soul, the affections, the aspira- 
tions, the intuitions, the spiritual powers, the sancti- 
fied reason, the glorified imagination, which reach be- 
yond all that is immediately present, which soar on 
the wings of the morning, and take their flight into 
the shadow of the infinite and plunge into the depths 



78 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

of the eternal, thence to bring up treasures for the 
heart to cherish and to love. It is a world for the 
higher nature of man to which faith belongs, of 
which faith is a ruling power. Faith itself will be a 
much nobler, more exalted, more productive power 
than here. 

It will substantiate its objects with much greater clear- 
ness. It will realize them much more fully and satis- 
factorily. It will be accompanied with greater certainty, 
for certainty belongs to Faith as well as sight. And in 
this sense heaven will be a world of clearer apprehen- 
sion, and in one sense we may call it a world of sight, 
because it will be a world of greater certainty. In this 
sense faith will change to sight. What we believe here 
with so much wavering and doubting that we must pray 
continually — Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief — 
we shall there believe as though we saw it. 

"Now also abideth hope." Hope is permanent no 
less than faith. As long as there is a future before 
man, and as long as there is in that future a good to be 
desired and attained, there must be hope. Hope stim- 
ulates to action, sustains life. It is the soul's oxygen. It 
keeps it from being asphyxiated, from falling into spiritual 
torpor. It keeps man well up in the line of duty, spurs 
him to rise higher and to possess more. It links the 
present to the future, the lower to the higher, that 
which man has, to that which he has not. You some- 
times sing "Hope will change to glad fruition." 
What do these words mean ? Do they mean that here- 
after we shall enjoy much for which we can only hope 
here ? Do they mean that as soon as you reach heaven 
you will get all you hope for here, and that there will 
be nothing more to be hoped for? The Bible teaches 
nothing of that sort. Think a minute what such a 
doctrine implies. 



SERMONS. 79 

In heaven is all activity to cease, are we to have 
nothing to do there but to sit down on seats of ease, 
on thrones of state, and drink out of the cups of joy 
already poured out for those who reach the place ? Is 
all possession to cease, is there to be no looking for- 
ward, no future, nothing but an everlasting Now? Is 
there to be no looking and climbing upward, no as- 
spiration, nothing but a placid looking down from the 
lofty pedestals on which like stylites we are to stand 
forever? Is there not to be gathering in of new treas- 
ures, nothing but brooding like misers over the old ? Is 
there to be no sowing and reaping, nothing but stand- 
ing guard over fruits of past husbandry and harvest- 
ing ? If so — then of course hope will be unnecessary ; 
for "the hope that is seen is not hope: for what a 
man seeth why doth he yet hope for? " But that is not 
heaven. When the Bible teaches that your life is hid 
with Christ in God — we know not yet what we shall 
be — that here we know in part, but there we shall 
know even as we are known, it teaches that the life of 
heaven is to be more truly life than the present if it be 
more distinctively a spiritual life, a life of faith, a life 
of upward soaring and of forward reaching after that 
which is above and beyond, a life of more intimate 
communion with the unseen. That is to say it will be a 
life of hope, a hope as much more exalted and inspir- 
ing than that which now encourages us, as the good 
which is there to be enjoyed and there to be longed 
for, surpasses all of which we have yet had any knowl- 
edge. And if here a life of hope, and of earnest 
waiting, of joyous expectation, of persevering progress, 
is nobler than a life of sluggish inertness, of dreamy 
sleepiness, of shallow contentedness, then most as- 
suredly will a life of purer endeavor, of more blissful 
anticipation, of more earnest purpose, of more joyous 



80 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

assurance, sustained by a richer experience of Divine 
love, surrounded by still more manifest encourage- 
ments of Divine favor, be nobler than a state of quies- 
cent rest, of ruminating enjoyment, of blissful self- 
absorption, even in heaven. Faith and Hope have a 
perennial greatness, that can never pass away. The 
mind's possessions in the realms of both is boundless. 
The prospects which they reveal to us are most cheer- 
ing and glorious. The life which they inspire is by far 
the worthiest of which we can have any conception. 
The deeds to which they influence us are the grandest 
that lie within the compass of human performance. 
The results which they bring are the most satisfactory 
and imperishable of all which the soul can call its 
own. 

But great as are faith and hope, Love is greater. 
"And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three: 
but the greatest of these is charity. Faith and Hope 
are of the royal household, but Love is queen. 

Let us consider in what respects Love is greatest. 

In the first place, Love in its largest exercise includes 
Faith and Hope. It is their condition', the root of their 
exercise. Without Love, either is impossible. There 
is indeed a lower exercise of Faith which does not 
proceed from love, as when it is said of the devils that 
they believe and tremble. That however is an exercise 
which is hardly deserving of the name Faith. It is 
simply the assent of the intellect to a fact which cannot 
be denied. It is extorted, compulsory. The evidence of 
that which is believed, is too overwhelming to be resisted ; 
it crushes the soul into silence. The mind can no more 
help believing it, and admitting its existence than the 
eye can help seeing when the image is formed on the 
retina, or than the sensorium can help feeling, when 
the nerves are affected by any cause producing pleasure 



SERMONS. 8 1 

or pain. There is no merit, no nobleness about that. 
That is not Christian faith. 

This is voluntary. It is active, not passive. 

It unites itself to its object, clasps it, embraces it, 
clings to it, saying to it — " Mine, mine forever! " And 
in other feelings or rather in another phase of the same 
feeling — "Thine, thine forever! " Now it says of God 
— "He is mine," and again it says to God, "I am 
thine." Now it says of Christ, "Mine !" and then it calls 
out to him — "Thine !," But this you see is very much 
like love. It is just such language as love uses. It is 
indeed of the very essence of love. One cannot thus 
speak, feel, or act toward an object, unless he has first 
loved it. One cannot thus cast himself on another, 
surrender himself to another, identify himself with an- 
other, without loving him. One cannot thus dwell on 
any reality, calling it up continually before the mind, 
feeding the soul on its beauty and fullness, until it be- 
comes vividly, constantly, and indispensably present, 
unless one has first loved it. On the other hand one 
cannot love an object without exercising faith in it. If 
it were not trustworthy, it could not be loved; and being 
loved it must needs be trusted, it must receive the 
affectionate reliance of the heart. One is a faith work- 
ing by love, the other is a love working by faith. 

In like manner it may be said that love includes hope. 
If a man love God, he will hope to know more and 
more of him, to come into more intimate communion 
with him. If a man love Christ he will hope to see 
more of his glory, to taste more of his goodness and 
preciousness, to partake more of his image. If a man 
love the Holy Spirit, he will hope for a larger outpour- 
ing of his grace, and for a fuller indwelling of his pres- 
ence. If a man love his fellows he will hope in their 
behalf for their progress and prosperity, and for new 



82 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

opportunities of aiding and serving them. If a man love 
the Church of God he will hope for its growth. If he 
love his work he will hope for success. If a man love 
holiness, he will hope for more and more of partici- 
pation in its life and blessings. As was remarked of 
Christian faith, so it may be remarked of Christian hope; 
it is a hope working by love, and a love working by 
hope. 

Secondly : the superiority of Love to Faith and Hope, 
may be seen in the fact that Love is the end to which 
the others minister. It is true that all the other graces, 
faith and hope, depend on Love, as the light of the 
lamp depends on the oil that feeds it. Take love away, 
and all would perish. To quench love, and then bid 
men to believe or hope would be like dividing the main 
artery, and expecting the heart to keep on beating. 
But it is just as true that love is the end, as that it is 
the source of all other graces. Faith and Hope are 
appropriative powers in the spiritual life. They are 
faculties of acquisition. It is their nature to take pos- 
session of those great and blessed realities, which are 
essential to our life, to hold them for the soul's benefit, 
to obtain out of them nourishment, strength and joy. 
Their action is mostly reflexive, tending back to our- 
selves. But man was not made for himself. He was 
not made to gather up treasures for his own use and 
delight only. Appropriation and possession are not 
the end of his living. The treasures which he possesses 
are to be bestowed again. The strength which he ac- 
quires is to be used again. The joy which flows in 
upon him, must flow out from him again. And it is in 
that which goeth out from a man that his true life con- 
sists. It is here that we look for character, personality, 
influence, holiness, in their largest measure, and in their 
ripest results. It is here that the image of God shines 



SERMONS. 83 

forth with the greatest brightness, and that God's glory 
in man is most abundantly revealed. And this brings 
me to remark : 

Finally, the greatest of all graces is love, because it 
is most Godlike. What is the character of God? Is 
it that of a being who lives only in himself, who is ab- 
sorbed in the contemplation of his infinite perfections, 
who concentrates all his energies in the production of 
his own happiness? What is the life of God? Is it 
that of acquisition, of ingathering, of self-ministration ? 
Is he an infinite vortex into which all things are drawn 
and in which all things are lost? t Nay! call him rather 
an infinite Heaven, eternal in its depth, inexhaustible 
in its fullness, forever pouring forth streams of health, 
of power and of joy. Call him the great central sun 
of all existence, who radiates light and life and blessed- 
ness to the uttermost recesses of being. The life of 
God is one of communication, of inspiration. He is, 
as the Apostle James calls him, "The giving God." 
He is forever bestowing himself and whatever is best 
and most precious in himself on others. It is true that 
all things are in him and through him and for him; 
that he has created all things for his own glory. But 
what does this mean ? Is it to make them the subjects 
of arbitrary regulations, which look only to his own 
gratification and exaltation ? Far from it. To say that 
God has made all for his glory, whatever else it may 
mean, means more than all else, that he has made all 
for his love, for love is the glory of God. He glorifies 
himself by glorifying his love. He created all in love. 
We acknowledge no necessity in God to create, other 
than the necessity of loving. It is no evidence of im- 
perfection in him that he desired (I had almost said 
yearned) to be surrounded by a universe of holy beings, 
in whom his glory might be reflected, whom he might 



84 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

love, and who might find their highest joy in imitating 
and responding to his love. It was much rather an evi- 
dence of his perfection. And now, having created such 
beings, his ever blessed life accomplishes itself in the 
perpetual communication of his fullness to them. The 
life of God is a life of giving, a life of love. Yea, in 
the incarnation of Christ, it reveals itself as a life of 
service. He, the highest of all, appears in Christ as 
the servant of all. I say then that a life of love, a life 
of self-surrender, of self-forgetfulness, of self-sacrifice, of 
humble and affectionate service, of devotion to the well 
being of others, and, of consecration to the glory of 
God is the most Godlike life possible to man. By 
such a life we become like our Father in heaven. He 
is pleased with our faith and he deserves to be trusted, 
but in his own life he has no need of faith. He takes 
delight in our hope, he invites us to hope and encour- 
ages its exercise ; but he himself is above hope. But 
he is especially pleased with our love, for God himself 
is love ; and in nothing is his infinite greatness more 
shown than in his infinite love. Now, therefore, there 
abideth faith hope, love, these three, but the greatest of 
these is love, for God is Love. 

And now, behold these three witnesses for the truth 
of God, essential, irresistible, eternal. Faith, Hope, 
Love, glorious Trinity of graces! What a testimony 
they furnish to the Divine origin of the gospel, to its 
power and perpetuity ! How triumphantly they vindi- 
cate the adaptation of Christianity to man's nature, its 
fitness to be the determining factor of his destiny ! 
What other system, what other religion is there which 
can give such vitality and potency to these exalted ex- 
ercises? How does faith fare outside of the gospel? 
It can scarcely be said to exist. Scarcely a trace of its 
presence can be found. It is overpowered by the do- 



SERMONS. 85 

minion of sense. There it wages a fruitless struggle 
with unbelief, fruitless because it finds so little to jus- 
tify or to support it. In one system it is contemptu- 
ously set aside, its place usurped by science, falsely so- 
called — everything is refused which can not be under- 
stood or accounted for. In another system it is per- 
verted to superstition, the victims of which believe 
only in that which makes the soul crouch and cower 
in abject servility. In another system yet, it runs into 
fanaticism, which may indeed inspire the soul for a 
time, but which, at the same time, intoxicates it; be- 
wildering its vision and disturbing its equilibrium, while 
the intoxication lasts, leaving the soul prostrate, imbe- 
cile, helpless, when it is gone. How does hope fare 
without the gospel? There is no hope. It is the lit- 
eral truth which Paul affirms of the heathen that "they 
are without hope." That light which shines in the 
uplifted eye as the fore gleam of heaven, that looks 
into futurity, which shines with the anticipation of 
the glory to be revealed, is not to be found where 
Christ is unknown. To the world which has never re- 
joiced in the life and immortality brought in through 
the gospel, the future is a blank, a vacuity, if not an 
abyss of despair. Its hope is at best a sickly senti- 
ment, a blind yearning, a longing agony ; while at the 
worst, and to most it is a fitful dream, an elusive 
phantom, a fatal mockery. How fares it with love 
where Christ is a stranger ? It is stifled by doubt ; it 
is driven out by fear ; it is paralyzed by unbelief; it is 
consumed by the feverish tortures of superstition, or 
crushed by the burdensome observances of self-right- 
eousness. God is the unknown god; man to man is 
an alien. 

Nay, my hearers, that faith which makes the unseen 
world a present reality, which makes man a seer of the 



86 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

invisible, which gives him the strength that comes 
from communion with the Efernal, which is the victory 
that overcometh the world, is the product of the Gos- 
pel which bids man to believe and live. That hope 
which makes him a denizen of two worlds, which con- 
stitutes him the heir of immortality and incorruption, 
of boundless being and of endless life, that hope by 
which in a world of doubt and darkness we are saved, 
is the gift of the Comforter, whose voice brings glad 
tidings to the nations. That love which is the blessed 
fulfillment of the law, which embraces God, which 
clasps the world, which annihilates self, which conquers 
death, which triumphs over the grave, is shed abroad in 
our hearts by that Holy Ghost, the gift of which makes 
the gospel the power of God unto salvation. These 
are, one and all, the fruits of the cross of our Lord 
Jesus Christ. These are powers of the world to come, 
of that glorious gospel dispensation which has come 
upon us with the fullness of the blessing of the Infinite 
God. And this is the gospel which is preached to 
you to-day. It is the gospel preached by Paul, the 
Apostle of Faith, who testifies : i ' 1 know whom I have 
believed." " I live by the faith of the Son of God who 
loved me and gave himself for me." It is the gospel 
preached by Peter the Apostle of Hope, who ex- 
claimed : * ' Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, which according to his abundant mercy, 
hath begotten us again into a living hope." It is the 
gospel preached by John, the Apostle of Love, who 
says: " We love him because he first loved us." il God 
is love, and he that dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God, 
and God in him." Nay, it is the gospel preached by 
Him who is the trust, the hope, the love of all His peo- 
ple to all eternity. He who is the author and finisher 
of our faith, who is the ocean of our love, He is come 



SERMONS. 87 

that we might have life and might have it more abund- 
antly, for He fills our life here and our destiny here- 
after, with the infinite possibilities of every grace and 
privilege, and power, which finds its life in Himself. Oh, 
the blessed gospel of Our Lord Jesus Christ! With 
these essential, imperishable, Divine witnesses to its 
truth, to the unsearchable riches of the grace which it 
ministers here, to the ever increasing weight of glory 
with which it crowns the hereafter, how mighty are the 
appeals which it makes to us ! Is it not worthy of all 
acceptation from us? Is it not the extreme of folly to 
reject it? Is not this to rob our souls of the truest 
life, of their most perfect growth, of their only bliss? 
Let us open our hearts to receive it. Let us learn now 
the precious exercises of the faith, the hope, the love, 
which the gospel both gives and requires. Then will all 
things be ours, life and death, things present and things 
to come, all will be ours, and we shall be Christ's as 
Christ is God's. 



II. 

STRENGTH. 

Ephesians 6: 10. " Finally my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power 
of his might." 

One of the principal idols of this age is strength. 
Some ages seem to have admired especially vastness, 
size : witness the pyramids of Egypt, and the gigantic 
monuments of Nineveh and Babylon. Others have 
worshipped grace, beauty: witness the temples and 
statues of Greece. Others have idolized grandeur, 
pomp : witness Rome, its Pantheons, Amphitheaters, 
festivals and triumphal processions. Ours bows the 
knee to strength. A very significant indication is the 
name by which it is sometimes called — "the age of 
Iron." This name which the ancients applied in a 
figurative sense to a former age is true in a literal sense 
of ours. The manifold uses to which iron is now put 
are highly characteristic of the times. Iron roads, 
iron bridges, iron ships, iron houses, iron monuments, 
iron ornaments — iron everywhere. Whatever the age 
disbelieves in, it certainly believes in iron. And not 
only in its material life must it have iron, but also 
in man, in character. The representative man of 
one of the leading nations of the world a few years 
ago was known as the "Iron Duke." The represent- 
ative man of the strongest power of to-day has beeii 
(88) 



SERMONS. 89 

called by his admirers the man of blood and iron. 
The ideal man of the Age is the strong man. The 
Bible, too, believes in strength. It teaches us that 
there is such a thing as a strong Christian ; that the 
strong Christian makes the strong man. As every man 
ought to be a Christian, so every Christian ought to be 
strong. "I bow my knee to the Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ that he would grant you according to the 
riches of his glory to be strengthened with might by his 
spirit in the inner man." " Watch ye: Stand fast in 
the faith: quit you like men: be strong.'' "Thou, 
therefore, my son, be strong in the grace which is in 
Christ Jesus." " Finally, my brethren, be strong in the 
Lord and in the power of his might." Let us consider 
these exhortations : what, in the Christian sense espe- 
cially, it is to be strong; then, why we are exhorted to 
be strong in the Lord ; how Christ is the source of the 
true strength of man. 

1. What is it to be Strong f 

In judging of strength we must not do it by compar- 
ison only. There is in the physical world no absolute 
standard of strength. We are not to judge of the 
strength of one particular thing or class of things by 
the strength of any other thing or class. We have no 
right to require in everything the strength of iron. 
The branch of a tree has not the strength of the beam 
of an engine, but it does not follow that the branch is 
weak. There is an immense comparative difference in 
point of strength between the trunk of an oak and a 
blade of grass, and yet the blade is strong no less than 
the tree. It may even hold up its head through the 
same tornado which lays the oak low. No one would 
dream of requiring the leg of the spider to sustain the 
weight which rests on that of the horse, and yet the 



gO LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

spider's leg is strong. We are to judge of the strength 
of everything in view of its own uses and ends, and we 
are to say that strength is the adaptation of every in- 
dividual thing to sustain itself, and to secure the ends 
of its existence amid the various forces by which it is 
acted upon. Look at the tree. There is the trunk, 
the branch, the leaf. There is also the strength of the 
trunk, the strength of the branch, and the strength of 
the leaf-stem. The strength of the trunk is its adap- 
tation to sustain the weight of the whole tree, amid 
all the forces which act upon it. The strength of the 
branch again is its adaptation to support the lesser 
weight of branchlets and leaves which it has to bear, and 
to sustain itself amid the forces which act upon it. The 
strength of the little stem by which the leaf hangs is 
its adaptation to sustain the life, and to support the 
weight of the leaf. Whenever either of these fails par- 
tially to fulfill its functions, whenever the antagonistic 
forces without overcome it, it thereby discovers itself 
to be weak. Whenever the failure becomes entire, 
whenever the hostile forces without gain a complete 
mastery over the self-sustaining forces within, the indi- 
vidual dies. Death is accordingly the extreme point of 
weakness; utter failure to sustain one's self; final ex- 
haustion. So also the strength of man is his adaptation 
to sustain himself so as to answer the purposes of his 
existence, and so of the component parts of man. 
The strength of each faculty is its ability to main- 
tain itself properly in its relations to all other fac- 
ulties and forces, and to do all that can by right be re- 
quired of it. A man's intellect is strong in proportion 
to its ability to meet properly all the demands of truth. 
A man's feelings are strong in proportion to their 
power to satisfy the requirements made on them by 
beauty, goodness and law. A man's will is strong when 



SERMONS. 9I 

it holds its own amid opposing and contending forces, 
and is not overpowered by them. A man's conscience 
is strong when it keeps itself from being warped or 
blunted. When either of these faculties fails in these 
respects it is a sign of weakness, and man is so far 
weak. When they all fail, when the whole man is ren- 
dered utterly impotent to sustain himself in his true hu- 
manity, to meet properly all his spiritual responsibili- 
ties, he becomes dead. Spiritual death is extreme, 
utter, spiritual weakness. 

It follows that one indispensable condition of the 
strength of any whole is the harmonious adaptation of 
all its parts to their several ends. The strength of 
the tree is made up of the strength of each branch, 
branchlet, twig and stem. The strength of the body 
depends on the strength of each of its parts. He is not 
the strong man, who has a stalwart arm and a weak 
spine ; nor he who has strong muscles and weak nerves ; 
but he who is strong throughout, every limb, muscle, 
and nerve of whom is adequate to its functions. And 
here we are liable to be imposed upon, we are often in 
danger of being misled by special results, and to account 
that strength, which in reality is weakness, or at least 
the consequence of weakness. A gigantic forest-tree 
falling with the crash of thunder, and crushing scores of 
saplings, shrubs, and smaller trees around it, may for a 
moment make a greater impression of strength than it 
had ever made before; and yet the tree was really 
stronger when it stood, proudly rearing its head in the 
storm, flinging out defiantly its hundred arms so strong, 
and sporting with the ineffectual winds. The crash of 
its fall, and the ruin of its feebler brethren of the forest, 
are the consequences of its final weakness, not the evi- 
dence of greater strength. The explosion of a steam- 
engine, the terrible concussion heard for miles around, 



92 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

and the scattering whirl ,of its thousand fragments, may 
momentarily impress one with the idea of greater 
strength of some sort ; and yet the engine was unques- 
tionably stronger when every part worked steadily in its 
place, and when the giant force was held in perfect 
control and docile submission to the conditions put upon 
it. In the explosion we see indeed the strength of the 
steam, but the weakness of the engine. So a man may 
give signs of an apparent strength, which is after all 
weakness. One may show an impetuosity of spirit, 
which sweeps along like a torrent, carrying everything 
before it, and which may be accounted strength, 
whereas, in reality it is nothing else than an eruption of 
passion, which ought to be checked by the superior 
force of will. Another may evince great apparent 
strength of feeling of sympathy of some kind, which is 
properly mere sentimental weakness arising from the 
lack of a controlling power of intelligence. Another 
may show a rigid inflexibility of will, which may be mis- 
taken for strength, when in truth it is only the inertia 
of a character lacking strength on the side of the finer 
sensibilities. There have been men, especially in times 
of revolution and anarchy — witness the French Revo- 
lution — men who were reckoned, and are still reckoned 
by man to possess great individual strength, simply be- 
cause they lay all about them in ruins, although in 
truth, the ruin was simply the result of their own 
weakness to brave the storm. Their power, if such it 
may be called, was that of a dead log, hurled by the 
torrent which it has no strength to resist, not that of 
the lightning, which in its own strength leaps out of the 
cloud, and cleaves the tall pine in twain. 

True strength then implies perfect self-control; that 
man should be complete master of himself and be mas- 
tered by nothing ; that all the component forces which 



SERMONS. 93 

make up his being should be kept in harmony, and 
held in rightful subordination to the great ends of his 
existence. Whenever any one usurps the mastery over 
the rest, it is a sign of weakness, and the man becomes 
a slave. The strong man is the only free man. "He 
that is slow to anger is better than the mighty ; and he 
that ruleth his own spirit than he that taketh a city." 

These general considerations will prepare us for the 
Christian idea of strength. As Christianity is the 
restoration of humanity to its original idea through a 
special Divine agency, Christian strength must be the 
true strength of man produced and developed in ac- 
cordance with that Divine agency. We may say that 
Christian strength is that which adapts man to act out 
his true self, his regenerated self, amid and against all 
counter forces from without, and at the same time to pi'e- 
serve the inward harmony of all his powers, and of those 
divine forces which accompany the new life in the soul. 
Really as the true Christian alone is the true man, so 
Christian strength is alone the true strength of man. 
For sin makes man weak; it destroys his adaptation to 
maintain and to live out his true self. He must be de- 
livered from sin before he can become really strong, 
and as Christ is man's salvation from sin, it follows that 
Christ is the true strength of man. 

But let us examine the matter a little more closely, 
and consider some of the reasons why the apostle in 
the text exhorted the Ephesians to "be strong in the 
Lord and in the power of his might. 

2. Christ is the true strength of mail. 

1st. Because he establishes harmony within man. Sin 
is discord, disunion, disorganization. It sets man at vari- 
ance with himself. It makes two where God designed 
there should be but one. In every department of hu- 



94 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

man nature, in every faculty of the soul, in thinking, 
in feeling and in acting, we see this two-ness when there 
should be one-ness, division where there ought to be 
union. We see it in the intellectual nature of man. 
His views of right are continually coming in conflict 
with his views of expediency. Every day his convic- 
tions of duty clash with his ideas of utility. The 
path of integrity and the path of profit seem fre- 
quently to cross each other at right angles. Some- 
times right itself seems doubtful. Sometimes duty 
itself seems divided. There seem to be two pole- 
stars in his heavens, and he is often at a loss which 
to take. The same division exists in his affections. 
The Law of the Right pulls him by the one hand; 
self-interest pulls him by the other. Truth shines be- 
fore him with the quiet, beautiful light of a star; he 
loves it — error gleams before him with the dazzling 
brilliancy of a meteor; he is £ fascinated. Virtue ap- 
pears to him in calm serene beauty, and he humbles 
himself at her feet and swears eternal allegiance. Vice 
follows with her pleasure-train, entangles him in her 
wiles and lures him away from his first love and devo- 
tion. He knows not his own heart. Not only are 
there two poles in his heavens, but there are two mag- 
nets in his vessel ; one points hither and one thither ; 
which shall he follow? His will again seems divided. 
Now he wills the right and now the wrong. At one 
time he chooses virtue, again he chooses vice. Yester- 
day he did an act of benevolence ; to-day he performs 
an act of unmitigated selfishness. He has a double self 
— as he has two pole-stars over head and two magnets 
in his vessel, so also he has two rudders directing him ; 
and alas ! for the most part, he chooses his evil star, 
he follows the erring magnet, he obeys the Devil's 
rudder and drifts away from God into the gulf of eternal 



SERMONS. 95 

death. Such a division is of necessity weakness. A 
ship which should have on board two different magnets, 
pointing to two different poles, two opposing rudders, 
two propelling engines, the one working against the 
other, two sets of officers countermanding each other's 
orders, could make no headway. It could accomplish no 
voyage, it must inevitably be wrecked. A State which 
should have two governments, two bodies of rulers, two 
codes of laws, two supreme courts, irreconcilably op- 
posed each to each, could have no internal strength ; it 
must crumble to pieces. 

An individual who should have two pairs of lungs, 
one absorbing life into the blood, the other poison ; 
two hearts, one diffusing the poisoned blood through 
the system, the other diffusing the pure; two brains, 
the one picturing realities to the mind, the other pic- 
turing lies, would perforce be weak and grow ever 
weaker, and soon would die of sheer exhaustion. Even 
so man when divided against himself, when he has 
within him two contending principles, two opposing 
forces, can not help being spiritually weak. "If a 
Kingdom be divided against itself, that Kingdom can 
not stand," says Christ; "and if a house be divided 
against itself, that house can not stand." May we not 
add, " if a man be divided against himself, that man 
can not stand." 

But Christ gives harmony. He makes one. "He 
is our peace." He makes man a unit, and thus gives 
him strength. As union is the strength of the many, 
so unity is the strength of the one — Christ gives man 
one-ness. He harmonizes all his powers and makes 
him a unit. Christ gives unity to the understanding. 
On this account he is called "Light " — "I am the light 
of the world ; he that folio weth me shall not walk in 
darkness, but shall have the light of life." He who 



g6 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

has the spirit of Christ knows what is right. The 
path of duty is one before him. That moral crossness 
of the soul's vision, which sin induces and which makes 
man to see double, is removed. The spiritual eye, the 
light of the inner man is made single, sound, true to 
the facts *of existence. Man sees with the eye of 
Christ, and he walks with a brave, strong step. ' ' The 
way of the wicked is as darkness, they know not at 
what they stumble;" but "the path of the just is as 
the shining light that shineth more and more unto the 
perfect day. " Christ gives unity to the affections. Where 
he is, the heart is one, the feelings are not drawn 
apart in contrary directions. They do not fly after this 
thing and after that thing, for there is a great spiritual 
magnet in the center of man's being, which draws all 
into one, and keeps all one. 

Christ again gives unity to the will. He makes life 
one ; the embodiment of one principle — love ; the out- 
flowing of one Spirit — His own ; and thus the will is 
made strong. It has one choice — Christ: One thing 
to do — the will of Christ. Man is enabled to say, ' ' for 
me to live in Christ," and he who can say that is the 
strongest of men. He has strength for every trial, 
and a "heart for every fate." But not only does 
Christ give unity and strength to the various powers 
of man's being individually, but he gives unity and 
strength to the whole, by establishing them in their true 
relaiioji to each other. He assigns to each its rightful 
authority, or its proper subordination. Like some wise 
Ruler who enters an insurgent province and deposes 
the rebels who have usurped the power belonging to 
its legitimate governors and magistrates, puts down the 
mob which would carry out its own blind will, and re- 
stores law and order, so Christ enters the soul, deposes 
those faculties of sense which have usurped the rule 



SERMONS. 97 

over it, puts down the wild mob of passions, and lusts, 
which would make their blind will law, gives to Reason 
and Conscience their rightful sway, and puts love on 
the throne to rule over all. He allows no one part of 
man to tyrannize over the rest. The sovereignty of love 
is no tyranny. The bondsman of love is the only free 
man. "Whosoever committeth sin is the servant (the 
slave) of sin :" but " if the Son make you free, ye shall 
be free indeed." Now then, as that state is strong, 
which has one source of power, one law-making pow- 
er, one law-administering power, one law-interpreting 
power, each one in perfect harmony with the rest, and 
in proper dependence on them ; as that commonwealth 
can sustain itself against foes without and dangers 
within, do the work of a Sovereign State, and make 
itself a power in the world; as the ship which has 
one rudder, one compass, one captain, one company of 
officers, one crew, with every man at his post, with 
every plank tight, with every spar, rope, and sail in 
its place, will prove stronger than wind and wave, and 
"walk the water like a thing of life" — so the man, 
whose bodily organs are all sound, whose heart and 
lungs act harmoniously, whose brain and nerves are in 
perfect sympathy, all of whose muscles and limbs play 
in blithe obedience to his will, and whose pulse joy- 
ously beats time to the pulse of nature is the strong 
man physically; so he, whose intellect is one with 
itself, whose heart is one with itself, whose will is 
one with itself, whose whole being is one with itself, 
and who is thus made one by Christ, who thinks Christ, 
who feels Christ, who lives Christ, is the strong 
Christian, the strong man. He is strong with the 
strength of Christ. "Strong in the Lord and in the 
power of his might." Christ is the true strength of 
man because he restores man to the true use and end 



98 LLEWELY IOAN EVANS. 

of his existence. Nothing can be strong when perverted 
to wrong uses — we have seen that nothing can be 
strong which is not harmonious, in all its parts, and 
one with itself. But by this harmony we understand 
the fitness of each part to do its duty in reference to 
the whole, and the adaptation of the whole to do the 
duty of the whole. By the harmony of the tree we 
understand the fitness of the buds and leaves to do 
their duty, the fitness of the stems to unite the buds 
and leaves to the branches, the fitness of the branches 
to unite the whole to the trunk in one tree, so as to 
answer the purposes of the tree's existence. The tree 
is strong, only when the whole tree, and all its parts, 
answer every purpose of their existence. If the bark 
were stripped off for other purposes than to protect the 
channel by which the sap is conveyed, if the branches 
were twisted into fantastic shapes, or crushed by heavy 
loads, instead of supporting the leaves and fruit, if the 
buds were all picked off to be used for ornamental pur- 
poses, the tree would be a failure ; it would become 
weak and die. 

The pleasure yacht with its exquisite curve of side 
and bow, its light spars and slender rigging, which is 
so strong in the race, would prove utterly weak if em- 
ployed to carry a heavy cargo of iron ; while on the 
other hand the coal barge with its blunter outlines, its 
broad prow, flat keel, and heavy beams would only be 
laughed at in the regatta. The camel, the ship of the 
desert, so strong on its native sands, would be perfectly 
helpless in the cold of Greenland ; while the reindeer 
which bounds so swiftly and so strongly over the 
northern snows, would be worse than useless in an 
African Caravan. So man is strong only when he an- 
swers the purpose of his existence. 

Whenever any single faculty is perverted, whenever 



SERMONS. 99 

he fails to answer the purpose, which God in his cre- 
ation designed him to answer, he becomes utterly- 
weak, spiritually dead. Every power of man is strong, 
the whole man is strong only when that end is accom- 
plished for which he was made. What then is the end 
of man ? Let God himself make answer. ' ' I have 
created him for my glory." Man was made to show 
forth the glory of God, to express as far as he may 
that which is glorious in God. This, indeed, is the de- 
sign of all things. "The Lord hath made all things for 
himself." " All thy works shall praise thee, O Lord." 
Man has the capacity to express more of what is di- 
vine, more of what is glorious in the Infinite than all 
the works of God. It is said that he was made "in 
the image," in the likeness, "after the similitude of 
God." He is to express not only the greatness, the 
power, the wisdom of God, but his holiness, his truth 
and his love. 

But alas ! Sin has marred it all. Man is no longer 
a complete Revelation of the Divine. He no longer 
unites with the heavens in declaring the glory of God. 
The stars, indeed, pure as when the "morning stars 
sang together, and the sons of God shouted for joy," 
still roll on — 

"Forever singing as they shine, 
The hand that made us is Divine." 

The lily still wears the loveliness, and breathes the fra- 
grance of its native Eden, reminding us that Earth is 
ever dear to heaven. But man — Oh ! Man is Ichabod 
— his glory is departed, he has lost the uses of his 
being, he has forgotten why he is here. The Prophet 
of the Most High has buried his commission. Divine 
messages committed to him, like the Sybil's leaves, are 
scattered to the four winds, and he himself is become 
a "feeder of the herds and swine." The High Priest 



IOO LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

of Jehovah, anointed to minister in his Temple, and 
to enter daily into the Holiest of Holies, has become 
an unclean thing. Urim and Thummin are speechless 
on his breast, he sets up golden calves, and says to him- 
self, "These be thy gods." The Vice-gerent of the 
King of Heaven, whom his Lord has crowned with 
glory and honor, and made to have dominion over the 
work of his hands, is become an idiot, who trifles with 
the crown placed on his brow, and plays with the 
sceptre put in his hands, as though they were mere 
baubles. "How is the gold become dim, how is the 
most fine gold changed ; the stones of the sanctuary 
are poured out in the top of every street. The precious 
sons of Zion, compared to fine gold, how are they es- 
teemed as broken pitchers, the work of the hand of 
the potter." 

But Christ creates man anew in the image of God, 
and thus restores him to his true uses. Christ is the 
image of God ; to be like Christ is to be like God. To 
be in the image of God is to be brought to the true 
use and end of humanity ; to fulfill that use and to an- 
swer that end is to be strong ; Christ, and Christ alone, 
is the true strength of man. And thus we arrive at a 
more definite, and at the same time, a higher idea of 
strength. If strength is, as we have seen, the adapta- 
tion of everything to fulfill its uses, and if, as we have 
also seen, the highest use of every created thing is to 
express something of what there is in God, true 
strength must be power to make that expression. 

The strength of the sun is its power to express so 
much of the Divine brightness and power as God has 
put into it. The strength of the flower is its power to 
express so much of the Divine beauty and loveliness 
as God has breathed into it. The strength of man is 
his power to express so much of the Divine^ truth, of 



SERMONS. IOI 

the Divine strength, of the divine tenderness, of the 
Divine love, as God has inspired into him. Do we de- 
sire then to be strong? Let us be Godlike. Do we 
wish to.be Godlike? Let us be like Christ. Let us be 
in sympathy with him. Let us receive his spirit. ' ' In 
him dwelleth all the fullness of the Godhead bodily, 
and ye are complete in him." 

But once again, Christ is the true strength of man, 
because he inspires man with love. Strictly speaking, 
the harmony of man's being and his restoration to his 
true uses, are conditions of strength rather than 
strength itself. The essence of that strength is love. 
Love, indeed, is necessary to those very conditions. 
What but love harmonizes man? Whence arise the 
distractions of his inner life but from the want of it? 
Why the conflict we saw in the intellect between expe- 
diency and right, self-interest and duty, but because 
man seeks himself? Would that conflict exist if man 
should make a complete surrender of himself to God? 
Will not love decide at once and forever that what God 
wills is best to be done ? Can {hat heart again be di- 
vided in its affections, which is filled with one great 
love that absorbs all other feelings into itself? And 
is not that will one with itself, all of whose acts are 
the spontaneous manifestations of an all-controlling 
love ? 

Nearly all of man's troubles and perplexities in life 
come from making himself the center of existence. 
This, it is true, seems much the simplest way to ar- 
range the universe. So, to the old astronomers, it 
seemed altogether simplest and best to make this earth 
the center of everything. What was the sun good for, 
but to give light to the earth by day ? or the moon but to 
give light by night ? or the stars, but to help the moon 
the best they could ? Then why should they not all 



102 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

swing about the earth? But it somehow happened 
that the more they observed the changes and motions 
of the sun, moon and stars, the more puzzled they 
were to account for them, the more crooked became 
the lines around this earth-center, and the more de- 
cidedly awkward and rickety became the universe day 
after day. But finally one, more sagacious than the rest, 
and whose heart I think must have been large as well 
as his brain, ventured to guess that, possibly, this earth 
might not be the center after all ; what if it were the 
sun ? And sure enough, no sooner was the assump- 
tion made, than most of the difficulties vanished, things 
began to look a little safer, harmony reigned once more 
and spheres rung out their wonted music as of old. 

And so when man makes himself the central point, 
he is involved in inextricable perplexities. All is in 
confusion. The orbits of righteousness and truth form 
all sorts of curves. Eternal stars become wandering 
meteors ; the everlasting heavens topple over his head ; 
no logarithms can save him. He is a doomed man, 
until he changes his center of existence and quietly sets 
himself to revolve with all God's creation about it. 
That which does this for man is love. It makes Christ 
his center, and sets the soul to revolve around him. 
It gives stability to all the interests and destiny of man, 
and thus makes him strong. "I have set the Lord al- 
ways before me: because he is at my right hand, I 
shall not be moved." 

Love again is the perfect restoration of man to his 
true end; for love is the truest expression of God, and 
in love — the love of God, of man, and of all that is 
spiritual, good, and true, man fulfills the great purpose 
of his existence. 

But not only is love necessary to all other conditions 
of strength ; it has also uses of its own as an element of 



SERMONS. I03 

strength. It absorbs and concentrates all other feelings 
in itself. It is the flux which fuses them all in one. It 
penetrates with its own essence, it purifies to its own 
brightness, it intensifies in its own glow every higher and 
nobler feeling of the soul. Love is Faith, Humility, 
Hope, Reverence, Gratitude, Joy, Zeal, all melted to- 
gether into one living stream, which gushes and rises, 
and heaves until it overflows all bounds, and bursts 
through the floodgates of the soul in one strong tide, 
which, like the old Ocean Stream of the Ancients, pours 
itself around the world, and encircles all being in its 
never ceasing flow. When now we remember how 
strong is each one of these feelings, that there is not 
one but has had its martyrs, not one but has nerved 
man to face adversity, suffering, and death, how strong 
must be their union, and how strong must that man be 
in whom they are all taken up into a higher energy, 
and blended in a love " strong as death, which water 
can not quench, neither the floods drown." 

Love is strength again, because it makes man to forget 
himself. He who is forever haunted by his own shadow 
is weak. Man is always stronger in another, than him- 
self. The strong men of the world, those whom we 
call heroes, its Davids, Pauls, Luthers, Knoxes, its 
Mohammeds and Napoleons even, were all strong in 
something else than in their own strength, the poorer 
sort of them in an irresistible fate which impelled them 
in their course ; the better sort in a God who inspired 
their hearts and held them in his hand. "The Lord is 
the strength of my life" said David, "of whom shall I 
be afraid." "I can do all things," said Paul, "through 
Christ which strengtheneth me." " Stand thou by me, 
thou true and eternal God," was the prayer of Luther 
at the Diet of Worms. "Hast thou chosen me for 
this end ? But I know for a surety thou hast chosen 



104 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

me. Ha ! then may God direct it, for never did I think 
in all my life to be opposed to such great lords, neither 
have I intended it. Ha ! God then stand by me in the 
name of Jesus Christ, who shall be my shelter and my 
shield. Yea, my firm tower, through the might and 
strengthening of thy Holy Spirit. The world shall not 
be able to force me against my conscience, though it 
were full of Devils, and though my body, originally 
the work and creature of thy hands, go to destruction in 
this cause. Yea, though it be shattered to pieces, 
Thy word and Thy Spirit they are good to me still." * 






III. 

COMPLETENESS. 

Col. 2 : 10. " And ye are complete in him." 

Completeness, fullness, is an essential characteristic 
of true religion. The Christian state is one of com- 
pleteness. In it man has been filled up, wholly and in 
all his parts filled up, with life ; with Christ ; with God. 
The fatal defect of all false religions and of all false con- 
ceptions of religion, is that they are partial, one sided. 
They take a part of religion for the whole. Man must 
have some religion, something, at least, that he can 
with some show of reason call his religion, and every 
form of religion in which man tries to believe must have 
something in it of truth and divineness, something 
which resembles, or is a part of true religion. It must 
be true so far as it goes. But false religion does not 
go far enough nor deep enough, and this it is which 
makes it fatal. Of all errors partial truths are the most 
pernicious. Of all partial truths, partial views of religion 
are the most dangerous. It is to some of these I would 
ask your consideration at this time, in the hope that we 
may be led thereby to understand better, and to value 
more highly, that completeness of spiritual development 
which belongs only to the life of Christ in the soul. 

The first form of false religion to which I would di- 
rect your attention is that which, recognizing the claims 

(105) 



106 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

of the intellect in the man, would identify religion with 
a creed. This you will observe embodies a partial truth. 
Religion is a matter of belief. That is but a partial re- 
ligion not worthy of the name which does not appeal 
to the rational principle, which does not recognize the 
importance of a solid healthy intellectual belief. That 
religion is a poor religion which does not enrich the 
mind. That religion is a weak religion which does not 
strengthen the understanding. That religion is itself 
ignoble which does not ennoble the intellect. A mere 
religious sentimentalism will not permanently satisfy 
active and thinking minds. It must furnish food to 
such and to all for thought and reflection. And the 
excellence of Evangelical Christianity is shown in this, 
that while it is so simple in its presentation of the 
more important truths which are necessary to salvation 
that the humblest intellect may understand them, it is 
at the same time so rich and manifold in its contents, 
that the loftiest intellects need not be weary in study- 
ing them. Let us now proceed to study a few other of 
the prevalent misconceptions in regard to religion. To 
some minds religion presents itself as a mere creed. 
It requires our faith in central doctrines. And in re- 
ligion as well as in business, in government, in art, in 
philosophy and in politics, what a man believes is a 
matter of some consequence. In all ages of the world 
good men have thought it important to define their 
views, to draw the line as accurately as they could be- 
tween truth and error. There never was a political 
party which did not have its creed. It was a necessity 
that the Church in developing its life, in unfolding its con- 
sciousness, in justifying principles and in assailing error 
should present to the world harmonious and systematic 
statements of what it believed. This necessity recurred 
continually, as often as the Church entered upon some 



SERMONS. 107 

new phase of its life or as often as some new form of 
error threatened the integrity of its faith. In this way 
creeds arose. They were a necessity, and yet they had 
their danger. There was danger lest the human should 
be exalted into the place of the divine. There was 
danger lest the form should take the place of the sub- 
stance, lest the spirit which giveth life having departed, 
the latter should have power only to kill. This indeed 
has been too often the result. The Church has too 
often made a Bible of its creed. It has made more of 
the shell than of the kernel. Men have mistaken intel- 
lectual acquiescence in certain doctrines for faith. One 
of the greatest obstacles to the progress of Christianity 
has been a dead, petrified orthodoxy. A live orthodoxy 
is a great and mighty power. Right thinking is at the 
bottom of all right doing, it is the pith and core of 
every manly, brave, successful life. But for the very 
reason that a living orthodoxy is a power and a 
blessing, a dead orthodoxy is an incubus and a curse. 
The best things perverted are the most dangerous. A 
live creed is inspiration; a dead creed is strangulation. 
We have heard, I admit, enough, and more than enough 
of that honest doubt in which some one has said there 
is more faith than in half the creeds. 

I wish to say nothing to encourage the fashionable 
cant of the shallow would-be scepticism which prides 
itself on its doubts. For there is a doubt which is 
devil-born. No true, earnest thinker was ever proud of 
his doubts. The mind was made for faith ; and that 
mind which does not gird itself valiantly to fight its 
doubts, which boasts rather of the hospitable entertain- 
ment which it furnishes to them, will avenge itself 
most fearfully. But let no one imagine that a sleepy, 
lifeless acquiescence in truth is faith, or religion. Con- 
victions are not dead stakes driven into the mind, 



108 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

however firmly, but living roots, which send themselves 
ever deeper, which, strengthening, spread and lay hold 
of the soul's depths, which grow up into pure and 
noble feelings, and into manly and holy deeds. The 
question is — what is your creed? Is it a dead trunk, 
or a living tree ? Is it a weight loading down life, or 
an energy lifting it up ? Is it a bolster on which you 
lay yourself down to sleep, or is it a living chariot in 
whose wheels is the spirit of life, bearing you on to- 
ward the goal of your heavenly calling? Is it a for- 
mula, or a faith? Is it an abstraction in the brain, or 
is it warm blood leaping from the heart, and carrying 
life through the whole organization ? Thou believest 
that there is one God. Thou doest well. The devils 
also believe and tremble. But wilt thou know, O vain 
man! that faith without works is dead? But as it is 
the tendency of error always to run to extremes, so we 
find some who in their opposition to a mere creed 
religion have fallen into the opposite error of regarding 
religion as mere sentiment. The Bible lays great stress 
on holiness. The production of a virtuous life, of a 
perfect character, is again and again inculcated as the 
great end of Christianity. In the Sermon on the 
Mount, Christ's first great public discourse, he made it 
his aim to unfold the law in the breadth and fullness 
of its requirements. All through his public life we 
find him urging this and that duty and virtue. Now 
humility, now consistency, at one time forgiveness, at 
another charity. Duties occupy a large place in the 
inspired presentation of Christianity. By their fruits, 
says Christ, we shall know them. Faith without 
works is dead, says one of his apostles. It is clear 
then that the element of morality, is one of paramount 
importance. It can not be overlooked or denied. The 
only way to neutralize it, to make it mean nothing, is 



SERMONS. IO9 

to pervert it, to cut the connection between the out- 
ward and the inward life, to sever morality from love 
and faith, to Contract its limits, to take away its vitality. 
And this is what sin is ever influencing men to do. 
There is more than one grade of morality to be ob- 
served. The lowest of all is that which takes for its 
standard public opinion, the average social morality of 
the community, or the statutes and laws of the land. 
And this poor, flimsy, fluctuating morality is what mul- 
titudes call their religion. Down in the secret depths 
of their souls, they try to persuade themselves that 
this thing will do to take with them into eternity, and 
to present unto God. They know that they can not 
appear before him and say: "We paid no regard to 
right, we believed in no such thing as duty, we recog- 
nized no standard of rectitude — no law to obey." And 
they flatter themselves that this religion of Social Law, 
of Public Opinion, of Respectability, will do their turn : 
that when they appear before God, they can present 
this miserable pretense and say: "This standard of 
duty we found in the world about us, this is what was 
required of us, and to this we sought to conform," 
hoping that the shortcomings and failures which they 
know have abounded in their lives may be extenuated 
on the poor plea that they are no worse than others. 
Terrible delusion! 

Think you that God will set aside his standard for 
that of Public Opinion? that he will lay by his law, 
and try men by the laws, the tests, which they have 
manufactured. Be not deceived. The law by which 
God judges the world and will ever judge it, is his own. 
The standard by which he will try men is that which 
he himself has set up, that which he himself has ex- 
emplified. The religion which he requires is in the life 
of his Son. Judged by this standard of religion which 



IIO LLEWEYLN IOAN EVANS. 

he gives, not that which society requires, my friend 
what is your morality worth? 

There is another class of morality seekers who differ 
from the one just spoken of in this : that the standard 
to which they profess or strive to conform is Divine, not 
human. They feel that it is not enough to satisfy the 
demands of society. There is a higher judge at whose 
bar they must appear. Something more is needed than 
that which Public Opinion requires. The law of God 
is broader and minuter. But after all, their obedience 
is literal and formal rather than spiritual. Their relig- 
ion is external. It is of the old narrow negative pat- 
tern, of the Judaistic type, if I may so call it. There is 
much more of the "Thou shalt not" in it, than of 
"Thou shalt." They make clean the outside of the 
cups and of the platter, but leave that which is within 
uncleansed. They have the form of Godliness ; but the 
power is not there. God requires humility. And you 
will find some who make great outward demonstrations 
of humility. They take particular pains to seem 
humble, which is a pretty sure sign that there is not 
much true humility there. The truly humble man is 
like the violet, which is modest and lowly for the very 
same reason that it is lovely and fragrant, and which 
hides itself as humbly, and gives forth as sweet a per- 
fume in the deep dell, where no eye sees it save God's, 
as by the wayside where every passer by may see it. 
But where would be the formalist's humility, if he were 
compelled to hide it? He wears some of the badges 
of humility, not humility itself. He is proud of what 
he calls his humility. Tell him that he is not humble 
and his pride will leap at you like a trodden serpent. 
It lies low in the grass till you tread on it. 

Christ requires self-denial. "If any man will come 
after me, let him deny himself." And some one pres- 



SERMONS. I I I 

ently bethinks himself, "Wherein can I deny myself? 
What can I give up? What can I do without?" And 
having found something which he can resign without 
much detriment or inconvenience, some sacrifice which 
perhaps to the world seems very considerable, but 
which in reality is hardly any sacrifice at all, which 
costs nothing, he makes a great show of self-denial in 
making that. "He that taketh not his cross, and fol- 
loweth after me, is not worthy of me," says Jesus. 
And the mere moralist walks around among his crosses, 
tries one after the other, picks out the lightest, — he is 
very careful to leave behind the heaviest. Who ever 
saw him endure the soul agony of the true cross bearer, 
taking up without a murmur any and every cross which 
is put upon him? When a sharp and heavy cross is 
thrust on him against his choice, how he struggles 
against it and tries to throw it off — but this light, easy 
cross, which he has chosen, or which perhaps he has 
made — for there is such a thing as men's manufacturing 
crosses that they may get rid of the cross God puts on 
them. Ah ! this is the very thing ! shouldering it as 
carefully and easily as he can, so that it will hurt him 
as little as possible, he goes out into the market places, 
the public streets, and carries his cross as high as he 
can, that all may see it. He brings it into the house 
of God, and whenever the duty of taking up the cross 
is urged he feels comfortable in the thought that he is 
doing that at any rate. Do you call that bearing the 
cross? How different from the cross bearing of Jesus, 
from that which Jesus did, from that which he requires. 
" He that loseth his life for my sake shall find it." 

But there is a higher grade of morality than either 
of those which have been noticed. There are those 
who are well convinced that morality is not altogether 
a thing of the external — that it is not comprised in out- 



112 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS, 

ward compliances merely. They are intelligent enough 
to know that it includes internal exercises, states, dispo- 
sitions, and performances of the heart, a life within as 
well as a life without. There are spiritual exercises to 
be acquired, and enjoyed, moods, feelings, into which 
the soul is to be raised, duties to be performed by 
which it is to be elevated. All this is included in re- 
ligion as understood by the higher order of moralists. 
I call this religious morality, because after all it is but 
a form of religion. It is still destitute of its essential 
spirit, of its vital active principle. And at this point, 
it may be well to speak boldly of the difference between 
religion and morality, however high the latter may reach ; 
using the term morality in that lower sense in which it 
is often used, as contrasting with religion, although the 
propriety of thus using it may perhaps be questioned. 
Certain it is, that in its truest, strictest sense, morality 
is religion. But bearing this in mind, and remember- 
ing that morality as we now consider it, is not true 
morality, using it to designate a formal religion adapted 
to satisfy the demands of a disturbed conscience, let us 
see how wide is the chasm between it and true religion. 
For the latter is true, real, the other as I have just called 
it, merely formal. One goes down to the foundations of 
life, the other does not go below its surface. Religion 
is a positive thing ; morality a negative. That is moved 
from without, this from within. The one is inspired by 
love, the other is prompted by self-interest. Religion 
asks — How much can I do? Morality — How little? In 
the former you find purposes which are born out of the 
deep, like an earthquake, and which upturn the whole 
life ; in the latter you find resolves that are born of the 
surface which make no change in the current, but 
which after being borne along by it a little distance 
scatter and vanish. Religion is righteousness; Morality 



SERMONS. 1 1 3 

self-righteousness. And what, you may ask, is the dif- 
ference between righteousness or holiness, and self- 
righteousness? I know not how better to illustrate it 
than by calling the former a living body, the latter a 
petrifaction. You know that if a living plant be buried 
in the earth, it very often forms a petrifaction. 

As the particles of organized matter decay, they are 
gradually replaced one by one by particles of earthen 
or rocky matter, which, because they take the posi- 
tion and dimensions of the decayed particles, assume 
their precise form and color, until the whole is changed. 
You have the plant exactly the same in position, size, 
shape, as when it was first deposited, but with this 
difference : that whereas at first it was composed of or- 
ganized matter, it is now a stone. In like manner a 
process goes on in the soul of the self-righteous mor- 
alist, by which the life of whatever good has found its 
way into him is taken away, leaving only the form, 
the appearance. In the higher forms even of mere 
morality, we find an imitation of religious experience. 
The man is not satisfied with the mechanical perform- 
ance of outward duty. He feels that more is needed. 
There must be feeling, desire, resolutions, plans, en- 
deavor and enjoyment. So he cultivates these inward 
experiences. He seeks to excite those feelings, to put 
forth those designs, to form those resolves and plans, 
to create that sense of enjoyment which might be 
deemed appropriate to a religious life. But there being 
no true love to God, no real communion with Christ to 
sustain that life, very soon it begins to decay, and 
pride, vanity, self-righteousness, self-sufficiency, enter 
and fill the soul experiences, penetrating the whole in- 
ward life, taking the place of what was there before, 
until whatever of goodness and divineness there may 
have been about these experiences at first, vanishes, is 



114 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

displaced by selfishness and pride, until the whole be- 
comes a dead, hard mass, preserving the form, the 
color, the attributes of a religious life, but with no 
warmth, no sweetness, no growth. Such, brethren, is 
selfishness — a petrifaction, petrified righteousness. The 
infusion of self petrifies the whole. The noblest ex- 
ercise of spirit, if self takes possession of it, is degraded. 
The richest experience of the soul, if self worms its 
way into it, is killed at the very core, until all of its 
sweetness and nutriment dies out of it. The best deed 
of the life, if self fastens on it, is smitten with a 
blight, and its glory and freshness are eaten as by mil- 
dew. That religion is imperfect which does not lay its 
claim on the whole man, which does not penetrate and 
renovate his whole being from center to circumference. 
No religion can command the obedience and respect of 
mankind permanently, which does not commend itself 
to the judgment, which does not bring within the cir- 
cle of its influence the thinking faculties. 

Some vague, dreamy sentimentalism may please for 
a time, but nothing calling itself a religion can give 
lasting satisfaction which does not recognize the 
claims of the rational principle in man. For man is 
distinctively a rational being. He is, indeed, a being 
of emotions, of affections — and in man these emotions 
and affections are of a far higher order than in irra- 
tional beings, of purer essence, of loftier reach and of 
wider range, of sweeter exercise. But they are higher, 
purer, loftier, sweeter, because man is endowed with 
intelligence — with reason, which brings him into wider 
and nobler relations, into contact with beings and re- 
alities that deserve and inspire feelings of a far more 
elevated order. One thing corresponds to the other. 
The depth of the feeling is proportioned to the height 
of the intelligence. It is true, on the other hand, that 






SERMONS. 1 1 5 

the development of intelligence is aided by the power 
of feeling which man possesses. Take away the latter 
and the reason would be shorn of more than one-half 
of its power. There is an element of feeling in the 
higher operations of the reason which cannot be elimi- 
nated without serious loss. What would be the soul's 
perceptions of the attributes of God, of Eternity, Im- 
mortality, Beauty, without feeling ? We may hold 
then, as indisputable, that the elevation of feeling is 
proportionate to the ennobling of the intellect — that to 
enrich the heart you must enrich the mind. To carry 
the feelings you must carry the intellect. And this is 
just as true in religion as in anything else. Religion is 
a life, but it is a life which fills every channel of the 
soul. It is a life, not simply a sentiment. It demands 
honesty, rectitude, earnestness in thought as well as in feel- 
ing. And let me tell you : that religion is a false religion 
which encourages intellectual indifference, which does 
not promote the love of truth and the earnest purpose 
to possess it. That religion is shallow, untrustworthy, 
which makes light of a man's belief — a man's creed. 
That which a man really believes, lies at the very bot- 
tom of his life. In rare instances you will find a man 
who is better than his creed ; but the rule is, as a man's 
creed so will his character be. Admitting that some- 
times a man may be found whose life is better than 
his theology, does it follow that the life does not de- 
pend on the belief at all? Shall we deny the rule be- 
cause of the exception? Because we are and should 
be tolerant in regard to men, are we therefore to be- 
come lax, indifferent, in regard to errors ? 

Are we to withhold our condemnation of dangerous 
doctrines, because this or that man was a good man 
in spite of them ? Not at all. Because in one or in a 
few some good influences have neutralized the poison 



Il6 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

of the error, the error is none the less a poison. That 
religion, I say then, can not be the right religion which 
encourages indifference in belief. Charity is one thing, 
indifference is altogether another thing. The excel- 
lency of Evangelical Christianity shows itself in this, 
that while it is simple, adapted in its principal features 
to the humblest comprehension, it is also rich, deep, 
manifold. Like nature, it is an endless study. 
Each one of its truths branches out on all sides into 
the life. You can not take away one without leaving 
a great vacuum behind it. How poor, how barren, 
how bleak are the substitutes of modern religionists, 
when compared with the fruitful field of evangelical 
truth! How easy to exhaust the former; how inex- 
haustible the latter ! How dull and flat the former be- 
come when their novelty is worn off! How new and 
varied in interest does the latter grow the older it be- 
comes ! If it fails to do this, then thinking, acting 
minds, will ultimately reject it. They will make 
something else their religion — science, literature, art. 
This in fact has been the case in all countries and 
ages where religion has degenerated into sentimental- 
ism. The stronger minds have acquired the habit of 
looking down on it as something appropriate only for 
women, children, emotional, mystically inclined people, 
or the lower superstitious orders, those who are ruled 

by feeling and impulse . 

The gospel is a gospel of sweetness, but it is also a 
gospel of power. It provides truth in its simplicity, 
even milk for babes. It provides truth in its sweetness 
— sweeter than honey, or the droppings of honey-comb. 
It also provides solid food for a manly maturity. Every- 
one that useth milk is unskillful in the word of righteous- 
ness — for he is a babe. But strong meat (solid food) 
belongeth to them that are of full age, even those who 



SERMONS. 1 1 7 

by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern 
between good and evil. Therefore leaving the (ele- 
ments) principles, let us go on unto the perfection of 
the doctrines of Christ. 

We have considered two forms of false religion ; the 
one recognizing the claims of the intellect seeking to 
satisfy itself with a creed ; the other, recognizing the 
claims of the sensibilities, contenting itself with mere 
sentiment. And now — my hearers — let us ask ourselves 
how do we expect to meet the claims which God makes 
upon us? Do we seek to content ourselves with the 
mere form of Godliness ? Is our righteousness anything 
more than self-righteousness? Is our faith that living 
faith which adds to itself knowledge, and which worketh 
by love ? Is our religion a life which makes itself felt 
in every part of our being? Let us remember that 
God demands the whole man ; the intellect, the affec- 
tions, the will, the thoughts, the motives, the purposes, 
the deeds, the life within, the life without. Nay more ; 
He demands completeness, perfection in knowledge, 
perfection in love, perfection in life. There is a day 
coming when our religion, whatever it be, will be tested 
by the light of God's throne ; tested by the fires of his 
judgment. There is a day coming when the great 
question with each one of us will be — Have I that 
which will satisfy the demands of the infinitely just and 
holy God ? My friend, there is but one way of satisfy- 
ing these demands. If you can say, — Christ is mine ! you 
can meet God without a fear. There is salvation in no 
other. To know Christ, this alone is life eternal. Count 
all things but loss for the excellency of this knowledge. 
Make this knowledge the substance and essence, the 
warp and woof of all your creed. To love Christ ; to 
love him with a love which comprehends the divine 
mystery of his love, a love which even passes knowl- 



Il8 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

edge, a love which trusts all to Christ, which hopes for 
all from Christ, which yields all to Christ, which does 
all for Christ, — this feeling, this sentiment alone will fit 
you for that heavenly fellowship with Christ, wherein 
alone eternal blessedness will be found. To love Christ, 
to show his spirit, to reproduce his character, to meas- 
ure all your life by his, to count all things but loss that 
you may win Christ, to do the work of God, to work as 
Christ worked, to be his fellow laborer, this is the only 
life which can endure. 



IV. 

CHEERFULNESS IN GIVING. 

2 Corinthians 9: 7, (latter part). " God loveth a cheerful giver." 

The emphasis of this declaration lies in the word 
"cheerful." God of course loves the giver, the man 
who freely bestows of what he has on those who are in 
need ; the man who considers that it is a nobler thing 
to be a cloud distilling mercy and blessing on the place 
beneath, and exhausting itself in the act, rather than a 
vortex into which many things are drawn, but out of 
which nothing is ever seen to come forth. There are 
men who are like the daughter of the horse-leech, for- 
ever crying, Give ! Give ! There are men who seem to 
believe that everything and everybody were made for 
them. They have never learned the truth of the prov- 
erb : ' ' There is that which scattereth and yet increaseth. " 
They have never discovered the secret of becoming 
rich and of feeling rich. Love's paradox of giving with- 
out impoverishing is, to the selfish man, an absurdity 
or a mystery. Such a man the Lord loveth not. He 
is wholly unlike to God. There is no" point of sym- 
pathy between his life and the Divine life. There is no 
principle in him which can delight in God ; there is no 
quality in him in which God can delight. Not so with 
the giver. He whose life is a perpetual effluence of 
goodness, charity, goodwill, who radiates as well as 

(119) 



120 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

absorbs, who is the servant of others, the benefactor of 
all whom he can reach, is a man beloved of God. For 
God is a giver. He reveals himself as the giving God. 
Everything which he does is a gift. Creation, Provi- 
dence, Redemption, all the Divine operations are pro- 
cesses by which the All-bountiful One is ever giving 
away something of infinite beauty and worth. As the 
sun would cease to be a sun were it no longer to radiate 
light and heat, so God would cease to be God, were he 
no longer to give. And because God is such, he loves 
the giver. 

But this general truth being assumed, Paul affirms in 
the text that God loves cheerfulness in giving. What- 
ever may be God's reason for loving the giver, the same 
are his reasons foe loving the cheerful giver. If he 
loves the giver, because he himself is a giving God, he 
loves a cheerful giver because he himself is a cheerful 
giver. To give and to give cheerfully are indeed in 
God's mind one and the same. To give grudgingly, 
reluctantly, to give with the hand, what the heart 
would keep, to wish back again what has been given, 
to give of necessity, under compulsion, from fear, for 
appearance sake, from self-interest, that is not what 
God calls giving at all. For, in giving, the motive and 
the manner are everything. Why a man gives, and 
how a man gives, are of much greater consequence 
than what he gives, or how much he gives. And there- 
fore Christ commended the poor widow who cast in her 
two mites into the treasury, above the many rich folks 
that cast in much. "Verily, I say unto you: That 
this poor widow hath cast more in than all they which 
have cast into the treasury. For all they did cast in of 
their abundance : but she of her want did cast in all 
that she had, even all her living." God accounts 
nothing a gift unless the whole heart goes with it. The 



SERMONS. 121 

merest mite, when Love presents it as her best, is a 
gift more royal than a kingdom. A throne, when 
selfishness parts with it, is held of less account than 
the ashes into which fire might burn it. 

But we may go still further and say that the same 
God who loveth a cheerful giver, loves cheerfulness in 
everything. I have said already that God's life is one 
of giving. It follows therefore that as man's life is to be 
like God's, his true life is also one of giving. It con- 
sists in perpetual self-impartation ; in the bestowal of 
one's property, thoughts, affections, and entire life upon 
others. God loves cheerfulness in all things, and de- 
sires that all the gifts of the life, of the mind, the heart, 
the tongue, as well as the hand should be fragrant with 
its essence. Look back over the past. Think of the 
multiform, never ceasing activities of the mind during 
the twenty, forty, fifty, or seventy years of your life, 
and of all the thoughts to which those activities have 
given birth. You cannot realize it at once. Think of 
all the thoughts which spring up in the mind, or which 
come floating and drifting through it, one knows not 
whence, in a single day. You have all of you stood 
over a fountain and watched the bubbling waters as 
they came up and up out of the earth, in endless, rising 
columns, and you have with difficulty persuaded yourself 
that it is only dead mechanical pressure, and not a liv- 
ing agent, which produces the results before you. You 
visit it to-day and the drops well up and roll away; to- 
morrow, and it is the same ; the next day, and it is as 
busy as ever, and your arithmetic fails you in comput- 
ing the drops and bubbles that spring there forever. 
And so for years have thoughts been welling up in 
your soul, not as regularly, nor alas! as purely as the 
drops in the fountain, and what has become of them ? 
You have forgotten all but a few; they have gathered 



122 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

together like the dews of the vapor, and stand over the 
past, massed together in dim overshadowing clouds. 
The past is like a fog, into which you can see but a 
little, but is it all dead? Are those thoughts all lost 
and vanished forever? Nay, let no one think that. 
Hope not for that, ye whose thoughts have been idle, 
vain, unworthy it may be, and vile, such as ye might 
wish were buried forever. Fear not that, ye whose 
thoughts have been of divine and holy themes, pene- 
trated with sweetness and heavenly joy, such as ye 
could pray might be your companions forever. They 
are not buried ; they are not lost, they are with God. 
The all important question is, how did we render them 
to God? Did we deliver them into his hands humbly 
and cheerfully, as the free-will offerings of pure and 
loving hearts? Or did they escape from us, as against 
our consent, that they might be witnesses against us in 
the coming Judgment? 

The first conditions of cheerful lives, are cheerful 
thoughts. Thoughts are the staple of our lives. As 
we think and feel about things, so shall we act in respect 
to them. Now I need not say, that God desires to re- 
ceive our thoughts as daily sacrifices of thanksgiving 
and joy. But the character of our thoughts depends 
on the character of their objects. If the object is poor 
and worthless, the thought will be such. If the object 
is .beautiful and Divine, the thought will have the same 
character. Hence the repeated admonitions of Scripture 
to fasten our affections on Divine things ; because these 
alone can be evolved into harmonious, and cheerful 
thoughts, pleasing God. They " breed within us per- 
petual benedictions. " They are born of God, who is 
light, and they carry with them the brightness and the 
gladness of light. The nearer we come to the sun, the 
great centre of light, the less and the fainter will be the 



SERMONS. 123 

shadows. The reason why we behold so many shadows 
now is because we live so low, because we so rarely 
take our flight above the clouds, because we so seldom 
climb to the ' ' shining table-lands, to which our God 
himself is moon and sun." 

It is not of course to be expected in this life, that the 
soul should be in a perpetual transport of joy. It should, 
however, find its equivalent in a divinely sustained 
cheerfulness, which will be a constant testimony to the 
ever conscious presence of God's love around us and 
within us. We are to be earnest, serious, no doubt. 
We must never forget the great end of living. We 
must abhor all trifling, all foolery, all petty frittering 
away of time and opportunity. We must live "as ever 
in our Great Taskmaster's eye." 

But there is nothing in this incompatible with the 
utmost cheerfulness. Indeed it may be said that only 
the thoughtful, sober-minded man, who has a clear and 
distinct understanding of the reality of life, and of the 
momentous interests which hang on it, can be truly 
cheerful. 

There may be merriment, gaiety, frivolity, among 
the thoughtless and the careless, but true cheerfulness 
is unknown except to the heart at peace with itself, 
at peace with God. The earnest consecration of the 
life to its great purpose is therefore indispensable to 
the possession and manifestation of that cheerfulness 
which God loves. 

Bearing this in mind, I repeat that it is every man's 
duty, by earnest meditation on all that is pure, elevat- 
ing, and spiritually inspiring, by the constant reception 
of all holy and Divine influences, to cultivate bright 
and blessed thoughts, which shall diffuse their gentle 
glow through all the inner life, and shed their beaming 
luster over all the actions. Let him think cheerfully of 



124 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

God. He is not a cold, distant, inaccessible Being, 
surrounded by impenetrable barriers, shrouded in 
eternal gloom, a stern, inflexible Fate, or an adaman- 
tine, inexorable Law, or a blind and Soulless Force. 
He is alive with sympathy, aglow with love, radiant 
with invincible attractions, ever with us, nearer to us 
than all others, bending over us with a brow of love, 
telling each one of us "I am thy Father; come unto 
me, my child ; tell me thy wants ; speak to me of thy 
sorrows ; cast on me thy cares ; declare thy joys. I 
am ever near thee to guide and save thee. Re- 
ceive my Spirit ; let him teach thee to call me, Abba, 
Father." 

Think cheerfully of life. It is not a blank void, 
a blank, thorny path, a dull routine of lifeless perform- 
ances, a dreary succession of vacancies and disappoint- 
ments. It is, if we choose to make it so, if we submit 
to the discipline which God appoints for us, a blessed 
and glorious opportunity, the promising beginning of a 
career of progress, of ever increasing knowledge, ca- 
pacity and power. If it has its losses, it has also its 
gains. If there is much bitterness in it, there is more 
that is sweet. If we are surprised with unexpected 
griefs, how much oftener are we not surprised with 
unexpected pleasures. If there is much to regret for 
in the past, how much more is there to hope for in the 
future. If there are many uncertainties before us, how 
much more numerous, how much more real and pre- 
cious the certainties. 

Let us think cheerfully of the world. It is not going 
to irretrievable ruin. It is not growing worse from year 
to year and from age to age. Our fellow-men are not 
sunk in hopeless imbecility and corruption. The well- 
being of society is not absolutely dependent on the suc- 
cess of this agency or of that institution. When one 



SERMONS. 125 

or two men die, the hopes of humanity will not be 
buried with them. A few failures are not a defeat. 
Retrogression if an occasional fact, is not the law. 
God is not dead, has not taken himself away and left 
the world to its chances. Evil is not stronger than 
Good. Error is not mightier than Truth. Brute Force 
will not forever be a match for the Free Mind. Cun- 
ning will not always get the upper hand over Hon- 
esty. The world will not die in its delusions nor give 
up the ghost, hugging its lies to its heart. The Bless- 
ing, thank God, is slowly removing the Curse. Thorns 
and thistles are making way for. the golden grain and 
the blushing fruit. The light is advancing, the day is 
breaking, one by one old errors and- superstitions are 
slinking to their caves to die, while new Truths and 
Powers are coming forth, as it were, out of their graves, 
equipped for the battle, conquering and to conquer. 
The seed of goodness, of heroism, of patriotism, of 
true religion never perishes. It propagates itself from 
generation to generation, and the spot from which the 
Reaper bears away the ripe sheaf now, will hereafter 
wave with the hundred-fold harvest. There is much 
for which to thank God in the evidence with which 
history and experience abound, that he has not left man 
to himself. Things are not altogether as discouraging 
even as they look. When all seem given up to idol- 
atry, and the Lord's prophet maketh intercession, say- 
ing, "Lord, they have killed thy prophets and digged 
down thine altars, and I am left alone and they seek my 
life:" What saith the answer of God unto him? " I 
have reserved to myself seven thousand men, who have 
not bowed the knee to the image of Baal." Good 
cometh even out of Nazareth. The foam comes to the 
surface, while pearls lie hidden in the deep. Out of 
failure comes humility; out of humility strength. 



126 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

" Through the shadow of the globe we sweep into the 
younger day." The God of Prophecy is the God of 
History. The world is gradually preparing for that 
new pentecostal Baptism, which is to dedicate it a ves- 
sel for new and long service in the Temple of Jehovah. 
Let us think cheerfully of the church. It is not a 
dead skeleton, or an effete fossil. It is not as yet an 
antiquated relic, curious only as illustrating the super- 
stitions of the Past. Neither is it altogether an empty 
shell of formalism, out of which the spirit of life has 
departed. It is not pure, but it is nevertheless the salt 
of the earth. It has its divisions, but it has also its 
unity. Hypocrisy may lurk like a snake within its 
fold, but the flower of sanctity, nestling in its shelter, 
grows fairer there than elsewhere. Its influence, al- 
though unseen, and apparently small, is yet widely 
spread, deep, and lasting. It is not to be measured 
either by its external bounds. For as "he is not a 
Jew which is one outwardly: but he is a Jew, which is 
one inwardly," so all who believe, and who walk in 
the steps of the faith of our father Abraham, are the 
children of Abraham, blessed with him, and heirs of 
the promise which he received. We may rejoice there- 
fore that the Church is broader than those visible and 
necessary limits by which it is separated from the 
world; and while we may well mourn that there is so 
much of the world in the Church, v/e may give thanks 
that there is not a little of the Church in the world: 
in other words, that there is so much of real Chris- 
tianity outside of our ecclesiastical organizations. The 
Kingdom of heaven is as Christ described it, like 
leaven, spreading upwards, downwards, sideways, and 
in all directions, diffusing everywhere its purifying, en- 
nobling, regenerating, and elevating influences, raising 
the standard of social and private morality, giving a 



SERMONS. 127 

higher tone to public sentiment, dislodging vice and 
corruption from one stronghold after another, putting 
the brand of infamy on whatever is dishonorable and 
base, making the pursuit and observance of virtue 
easier to all who honestly and faithfully undertake it. 
The church with all its imperfections and shortcomings 
is still precious to God. 

" Dear as the apple of his eye 
And graven on his hand." 

Although at times the fire burns low, and it seems 
chilly and gloomy enough, it is yet the hearthstone of 
God's household in this world, the home of the Chris- 
tian brotherhood, where heavenlier joys abound, and 
diviner pleasures flow, than in any other spot on earth 
not similarly consecrated by the presence and love of 
God. 

Let us think cheerfully of our age. It is not the 
worst age known in history. The bad men of our time 
are not monsters, the like of whom have never been 
seen. The good men of our times are not degenerated 
below comparison with the good men of the past. He- 
roism is not entirely extinct, neither is it altogether infe- 
rior in quality. Virtue is not at its very lowest ebb. 
Dishonesty, fraud, peculation, sensuality, all forms of 
immorality are not more rife than they have been. God 
knows that they abound, that there is enough — and 
more than enough — of them to occupy the utmost energy 
of every worker and soldier of the Lord. But it has 
always been so. It will be so for a long time yet. We 
see and know and feel more of the wickedness, and 
misery, and shame of to-day, than of the same things 
in other centuries, because telegraphs and newspapers 
bring them from all corners of the world to our own 
doors. But the age regarded in its leading tendencies, 
its moving forces, its purposes, endeavors, and results is 



128 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

a bright, noble, and hopeful age, rich with promise, 
abounding in glad omens of joy to the nations of the 
earth — an age in which we may well rejoice that we 
are permitted to live. 

Let us think cheerfully of our trials. Sore, severe 
they may be, hard to bear, unaccountable, different 
from all we had hoped for or had reason to [expect. 
Still they are not the worst that might have befallen 
us. They are not sent to crush our spirits, to break 
our hearts. They do not subject us to losses for 
which heaven has no compensation. They are not 
more bitter, more insupportable than have fallen to the 
lot of those who have gone before us. He who learns 
to carry the cross, will learn hereafter to carry the scep- 
ter. Trials make us humble, and blessed are the hum- 
ble, for they shall be exalted. Trials make us strong, 
not in the consciousness of our own power, but in the 
sense of God's strength made perfect in our weakness. 
Some days must be dark and rainy days, otherwise the 
vineyard would yield no wine, nor the orchard bear 
fruit. If there w r ere no storms the atmosphere would 
be loaded with death. If there were no clouds, there 
would be no majestic processions of the King of Glory 
through the skies. 

" Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, 
The clouds ye so much dread 
Are big with mercy, and will break 
With blessings on your head." 

"All these things are against me/' said Jacob, in a 
moment of doubt. "All things work together for 
good to them that love God," said Paul in the full tri- 
umph of faith. 

Let us think cheerfully of our work. It is indeed 
no holiday play. Its demands are stern and inexor- 
able. There is no laying down of arms in our warfare. 
God's soldier once, God's soldier always. There are no 



SERMONS. I29 

furloughs in the service ; there is no going into winter 
quarters. Our term of enlistment never expires. Death 
is promotion, not dismissal. Woe be to the man whose 
duties have not been performed, and who is not ready 
for higher service! Alas for him whose heart has 
failed him ere the battle of life is won! "No man 
having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, 
is fit for the Kingdom of God." But God's work is its 
own reward. To fight is at the last to conquer. To 
plough is to reap. It is not sowing to the winds. It 
is not beating the air. It is not running in vain. It 
is not exhaustion, weariness and then a long, torpid 
sleep; it is enlargement, growth, expansion, a coming 
to the stature of a perfect man, and then a joyous 
awakening, a resurrection of the whole man to a new 
and larger life. 

Why should we not think cheerfully of all these 
things? With such a God to serve, with such a Father 
to watch over us and to bless us, with such a Brother 
in heaven to remember and to love us, with such a 
Helper on earth to sanctify and comfort us, with such 
a heavenly brotherhood reaching from heaven to earth, 
and from earth to heaven to sympathize with us, 
with such a world and such an age to live in, with 
such discipline to chasten and ennoble us, with such 
a blessed service to perform, with such a heaven be- 
fore us, why should we not be cheerful? Why 
should we not rejoice evermore? What thought 
should discourage us and take away our cheer? The 
thought of our sorrows? But they are the seeds of 
heavenly joys. The thought of our losses ? But what 
is it to win Christ? The thought of ourselves? But 
why think of ourselves? Let our thoughts then be 
cheerful, such as God loveth. Let the sunshine of his 
smile be woven into them and around them. Let them 



130 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

shine as the wings of angels. Let them echo the mel- 
odies of heaven. If all our thoughts are bright, our 
whole lives will be cheerful. They will go forth like 
the voices of spring, diffusing gladness, content and joy 
abroad in the world. Many a poor wayfarer who has 
sunk down wearied by the wayside, will resume his 
journey with a lighter heart, and a lighter burden, and 
go on his way rejoicing. Many an unhappy wanderer, 
led astray by false words, or driven astray, it may be, 
by harsh ones, may be restored to the right path. 
Many a tired wanderer, oppressed by his foes, whose 
heart is growing fainter and fainter, and whose blows 
fall feebler and feebler, will take new courage and gain 
new victories. Many a discouraged laborer, whose 
ploughing and sowing seem to have been all in vain, will 
begin anew to "sow beside all waters," believing that 

" Grace keeps the precious germ alive 
When and wherever strown." 

Our looks will be cheerful. There will be fewer 
careworn, pale, troubled, haggard faces in the world; 
fewer anxious, painful, eager countenances, that seem 
to be peering into everlasting darkness ; fewer dark and 
clouded countenances, as though the shadow of some 
cruel doubt were forever resting on them ; fewer moody, 
discontented faces, that indicate the determination to 
be pleased with nothing that happens; fewer gloomy, 
morose, misanthropic faces, that are a declaration of 
hostilities against the whole human race ; fewer reserved, 
impenetrable faces, that keep the soul in a state of 
blockade from the outer world; fewer proud, supercil- 
ious, freezing countenances, that make the beholder 
shiver in midsummer; fewer suspicious faces, that look 
as though they conveyed an indictment against all 
mankind in general, and every body else in particular; 
fewer selfish, hard, insensible countenances, which seem 



SERMONS. I 3 I 

to say that the heart is not at home ; fewer blank vapid 
faces, that seem to say — nothing at all ! Sunny thoughts 
will make sunny faces. Men's looks will be at once out- 
lets and inlets to their souls ; outlets by which their 
souls go forth to others, to brighten and to cheer them, 
inlets or windows by which others can look into them. 
Men, in their utterances, their appearances, their char- 
acters, their whole lives, will mirror the smiles of 
Divine Joy, delighting with infinite pleasure in ' ' what- 
soever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, 
whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, 
whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of 
good report." 

"God loveth the cheerful giver:" — who comes into 
his presence with gladness and thanksgiving, whose 
songs are cheerful songs, whose prayers are cheerful 
prayers, whose devotion is penetrated with holy joy. 
There ought to be no place on earth more cheerful than 
God's house. It should be a place where the worldly- 
minded will be struck with the conviction that there are 
no joys like those of religion, no people so happy as 
those who can say, the Lord is our God. It should be 
a place where the weary feel abundantly refreshed, 
where the mourning may feel comforted ; where all may 
feel elevated with joy, where the only load known 
should be that of sin, and where that should be known 
only to be lost at the foot of the Cross. God loveth 
the cheerful sufferer, the man or the woman who bears 
without repining the afflictions of life, who submits with- 
out a murmur to its loss, who even rejoices in the 
thought that every sorrow and trial is proof, not that 
God has forgotten his child, but rather that he remembers 
his child, that his is a soul beloved of God. For it is to 
the glory of God that he can inspire such submission, 
such trustfulness, such love, that his servant will take 



132 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

even the bitter cup at his hands, and drink it with cheer- 
ful resignation, saying, " Father, not my will, but thine 
be done !" It is to the glory of God when his promises 
are believed in, although all around is gloom and dark- 
ness, and when the cheerful songs of the bleeding heart 
bear witness to the assurance that even in his chastise- 
ment, God is love. 

God loveth the cheerful worker — for by his cheer- 
fulness he bears witness to the delightsomeness of his 
service: — he testifies that God's Yoke is easy and his 
burden is mild, that he is the best, the most tender, 
and just of masters ; that the shame and reproach of his 
service are better than the honors and praises of the 
world, that in keeping of his commandments there is 
great reward ; that his work can alone satisfy all the 
desires, and capabilities, and scope of the soul ; that his 
followers have a hundred fold in this life, and in the 
world to come life everlasting. 

It is our duty to be cheerful, to commune with the 
bright aspects of truth, to look at the sunward, that is 
the Godward side of everything, to come into sympa- 
thy with that Infinite Joy which pulsates in every act 
and manifestation of God. 

It is a privilege to be cheerful. Our happiness, our 
usefulness will be increased in manifold measure; our 
fellowship with God and with one another will be purer, 
and fuller, and we shall dwell forever in the favor of 
Him, who as he loves the cheerful giver, loves every 
one who cheerfully surrenders his best and his all to 
the direction of one so wise, so watchful, so good. 



J 



V. 

THE NEW COMMANDMENT. 

John 13 ; 34. "A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another; 
as I have loved you, that ye also love one another." 

It is the grand character of Christianity as an educa- 
tional system, that it presents truth and duty, not as 
abstractions, not as barren formulas, but as incarnate 
living realities. The Bible gives us few definitions, but 
many illustrations. The Eleventh Chapter of Hebrews 
may be taken as a fair specimen of its method. The 
first verse is a definition : the remainder of the chapter 
(and it is longer than most,) is a series of illustrations. 
Truth is not unfolded to us as a system, but dramatized 
(if I may say so) as a History. Duty is not limited to 
the bare prescription of what is to be done, but en- 
forced by living examples, arranged in fair adornments, 
.and surrounded by such accompaniments of motion 
and illustration, as serve more clearly to define, and 
more urgently to recommend it. Along with each duty 
God furnishes the standard of its performance, the 
measure of its fullness. "Be ye perfect even as your 
Father which is in heaven is perfect." "Thou shalt 
love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, and with all 
thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy 
strength." "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thy- 
self." "I have given you an example that ye should 
do as I have done to you." " As I have loved you 

(133) 



134 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

that ye also love one another." It is only when we 
have raised our performance to these inspired standards, 
only when we grow up in all things into Christ, who is 
the head, and come up to the measure of the standard 
of his fullness, that we attain unto perfect manhood. 
The lesson of the text was designed more immediately 
for the disciples, and it has still a specific application 
to his professed followers. Christ's love for his disci- 
ples is to be the measure, the law, of their love one 
for another. But the principle is susceptible of uni- 
versal application. Christ loves all men and his love 
for all is the standard by which our benevolence is to 
be measured. Moreover, as this feeling of benevolence 
or love is the root of all our relations and actions 
toward others, we may state the principle still more 
broadly as follows : In all our relations and duties and 
conduct toward others, we are to be governed by the 
example of Christ. Let us consider what this rule of 
action implies, or in other words, what general course 
of conduct toward our fellow-men, is made obligatory 
on us by the example of Christ. 

I. In the first place, the example of Christ requires 
that we should distinguish between men and the cir- 
cumstances. I use the word circumstances not merely 
in its later and restricted sense of station or social posi- 
tion, but in its earlier and broader sense, of all that 
which stands around one, which surrounds him, which, 
without being a part of the man himself, belongs to 
him. Among these circumstances we may mention 
rank, wealth, honors, titles, social considerations, party, 
family, race. It is manifest to begin with that we are 
very much influenced in our judgments and feelings 
concerning others by these belongings and accidents. 
It is unavoidable, indeed, that it should be so. It is 
neither possible, nor would it be desirable, if it were 



SERMONS. 135 

possible, to dismiss these considerations altogether out 
of account. Thus, for example, race is a great histor- 
ical and ethical fact, whose foundations lie deep in the 
constitution of humanity. It is a wise and important 
arrangement of Providence for the better accomplish- 
ment of the work which the family of man is to do on 
earth. As such it has its claims on us all who are sub- 
ject to it. There are certain feelings, and duties which 
belong especially to each individual as member of a cer- 
tain race, just as there are feelings and duties which be- 
long to each as member of a certain family. I am 
justified in loving the nation of which God has made 
me one ; in maintaining its honor, in seeking its inter- 
ests, in aiding it to accomplish its historical mission in 
the world. 

Wealth, again, has its claims in our consideration of 
men. Money is power, in so far as it is a symbol of 
what man has done, of what he has achieved and of 
what he has the power of achieving ; in so far as it repre- 
sents the confidence which society places in his abilities 
and the worth which it puts on his services. 

Titles also, rank, official honors, positions of author- 
ity and influence, all by which society expresses its 
faith in men, its appreciation of personal merit, in the 
matter of social organization, have the claim upon a just 
measure of our regard. Parties, schools, sects, in re- 
gard to the various subjects of thought and belief on 
which we are called to judge and act, are unavoidable 
and not without their advantages. They stimulate in- 
quiry, and help us to broader and juster views. And 
we cannot help recognizing the bonds which unite to- 
gether men of similar opinions and aims in regard to 
those great questions, in the settlement of which we are 
all interested. 

Circumstances, then, are of necessity an element 



I36 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

which we cannot disregard in determining our relations 
to others, as well as in determining those judgments 
and feelings which grow out of those relations. This how- 
ever is very different from saying that circumstances are 
the only or the principal element in that determination. 
They are not to be left out of the account, but they are 
not to rule. We cannot consider man altogether apart 
from the circumstances, the belongings, but we must not 
identify men with these. We must not, however, allow 
these considerations to blind us to facts of greater con- 
sequence than they are. We must not put that which 
is about the man, the dress which he wears, the pedes- 
tal on which he stands, for the man himself. We must 
not confound the accident with the substance. Bancroft 
defines democracy to be the doctrine of the superiority 
of man over his accidents. This doctrine is not only 
democracy ; it is Christianity. Manhood above race ; 
manhood above nationality; manhood above family; 
manhood above money; manhood above party, man- 
hood above every circumstance whatsoever, this is the 
fundamental principle of Christian democratic humanity. 
If I let my partiality for my own race carry me so far 
that I shall wrong one of another race, deny him any 
right which belongs to him as a man, refuse him any 
honor which is due to his worth, withhold from him 
any privilege which would make him a better man, a 
more useful member of society, put any burden on him 
which tends to crush his manhood, I sin against my 
brother, I sin against my own manhood, I sin against 
Christ. If because of a man's family connections, or 
social position, I wink at his vices, and gloss his crimes, 
if I accord to him a measure of deference and respect, 
which I should scorn to accord to one less favored in 
his family, or social relations, or if on the other hand, 
because a man's connections are humble and for no other 



SERMONS. 137 

reason I hold him at arm's length, treat him with cold- 
ness, indifference, superciliousness, a man whom but for 
this accident of position I should be proud to honor, 
and to name my friend, I am guilty of conduct which 
is unworthy of a man. Why, the very fact that a man 
fights his way up, rises by virtue of an excellence which 
is superior to the plane in which he is first placed, shows 
his worthiness to take the highest seat, proves him 
one of nature's noblemen, and this in despite of all ad- 
verse circumstances. This should be his surest passport 
to any circle and to any heart worthy of him. You 
love your garden and prize its floral beauties, and enjoy 
strolling among these better than wading through a bog. 
But if in some stagnant, reedy fen, you see the soul of 
beauty, nestling in some lily, which grows amid the 
rank and slimy weeds, pure as the brow of an angel, 
you will gather it more joyfully and cherish it yet more 
tenderly and lovingly, than the proudest queen of the 
garden. 

If I let my party zeal outrun my charity, if my love 
for the system or church in which I believe is exagger- 
ated into bigotry, if every one outside of my own cir- 
cle of thought and faith is a pariah, or at best a non- 
entity, if I can not see that God has many schools and 
many teachers, and suspect every man whose accent 
and dialect differs from mine, I am verily as yet, a poor, 
blind slave. Where, hearer, do we stand in reference 
to these obligations due from us to manhood as such? 
The world has much to do yet, to purify itself of its 
shortcomings in these respects. Even in this Demo- 
cratic .and Christian land, as we claim it to be, soci- 
ety has many steps to take before it will stand on that 
lofty ground to which Christ beckons us. Even here 
there are brands of degradation, which scarcely the 
blood of heroic daring and dying is allowed to wipe 



I38 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

away. There are classes, to which its members are 
confined with little less rigor than those who belong to 
a Hindu caste. There are circles which would as soon 
think of tolerating manhood without money, as a man 
without a coat. There are estates and conditions which 
are like deep ravines, flanked by declivities and thorny 
precipices, from which it is all but impossible to climb. 
When one by dint of hard labor climbs very near the 
top, and already rejoices in the hope of planting him- 
self on the summit, too often the heel of prejudice 
spurns him down again, with a plunging crash to the 
bottom, where he lies bruised, broken, ruined, with no 
heart to try again. 

But what is the example which Christ has left us in 
this matter? How do we find him conducting him- 
self toward others? He looks at each one as he is in 
himself, as a man. His vision is never blinded or con- 
fused by any one's surroundings. He knows just how 
and where to separate between a man and that which 
has gathered about him. He knows exactly how much 
is due to the circumstances, how much to the man. He 
understands what is essential and what is accidental. 
No one can hope to be accepted by Christ for more 
than his personal worth. No one need fear to be ac- 
cepted for less than his worth. His glance burns through 
all the adventitious and fictitious envelopes in which 
men are sometimes bound. Amid the dross which 
gathers around the nugget, he discerns the pure gold if 
there be any, and knows just how much there is of it. 
It is vain to rely on pompous pretentions, on class priv- 
ileges, on hereditary or acquired distinctions, on any one 
of the foundations on which personal pride and social 
prejudice so often rest, and are built up. ' ' Jesus did not 
commit himself unto them because he knew all men, and 
needed not that any should testify of man, because he 



SERMONS. 139 

knew what was in man." He needed not any of those 
artificial auxiliaries by which our judgments are formed, 
and on which our opinions and actions so largely de- 
pend. He showed no regard to the commendatory 
plaudits of society. He did not hold as of the highest 
value its proscriptive edicts. He did not honor a man 
because worldly maxims and creeds made him honor- 
able. He did not scorn him because he did not pro- 
nounce the Shibboleth of a school or of a class. The 
Pharisees, flaunting broad phylacteries, found in him no 
smooth-tongued sycophant. Publicans and sinners, 
scorned and shunned by the religious aristocracy of the 
day, found in him a wise and gentle-hearted friend. He 
received the Pharisee as a man — nothing more, He re- 
ceived the Publican as a man — nothing less. He knew 
no sect, no caste, no privileged class, no superior or in- 
ferior orders. He knew only — man! The woman of 
Samaria is heard asking in astonishment : ' ' How is it 
that thou being a Jew askest drink of me which am a 
woman of Samaria?" The proud and contemptuous 
Pharisee sees him allow the outcast to bathe his feet with 
her tears. He mingles with the rich and noble as their 
equal. The dying thief on the cross hears him say: 
" To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise." Thus did 
Christ love men, and the new commandment which he 
has given us is, " As I have loved you, do ye also love 
one another." 

II. In the next place the example of Christ requires 
that we should distinguish between that which is real, 
internal, substantial in men, and that which is apparent, 
external, superficial. 

Even after you take a man out of his circumstances, 
after you strip him of his surroundings, there is a great 
deal yet within the compass of his own personality, of 
which you must strip him, or through which you must 



140 LLEWELYN I0AN EVANS. 

penetrate, before you can get at his real self. Just as it 
is difficult to separate between a luminous body, and the 
halo which gathers round it, so as to mark out sharply 
the outline of the flame, so it is difficult to separate 
the inward in the man, from the outward. Some 
people have the trick of seeming larger than they 
really are. It is said that the French people were very 
much surprised after the death of Louis XIV, at find- 
ing that his body was so much smaller than they had 
supposed. The Grand Monarque had succeeded in 
making an exaggerated impression of his personal pro- 
portions by the pomp, and circumstances and grand- 
eur of air, which he assumed. And so intellectually 
and morally, some seem to fill up a much larger space 
than they really do. Others look smaller than they 
really are. Some, like comets, go blazing along a way, 
drawing a long nebulous cloud after them, and attract- 
ing much attention for the time, although when they 
are more narrowly examined, the nucleus of solid mat- 
ter in them is found to be exceedingly small. Others 
are like stars that twinkle and flicker as though they 
were on the point of going out, although when you 
bring the telescope to bear on them, you find them to 
be majestic, mighty suns. Manners do much for men, 
as it is right to a certain extent they should. It is the 
right of a man or woman of graceful ways and speech 
to command homage and devotion. For after all, the 
best and most genuine manners are not far removed 
from the noblest qualities of the heart. It was perhaps 
the perception of this which led the earlier Romans to 
apply the same rule to manners and morals. Accom- 
plishments are not to be despised. All those natural 
gifts and acquired arts, which give our access to the. 
affections and regard of others, which carry with them 
the power to charm, to attract and influence others, are 



SERMONS. 141 

to be esteemed and prized. Only let us beware of 
being misled. We are in danger of overvaluing 
these, or perhaps I should say of undervaluing the 
more solid, real and profound qualities of a perfect char- 
acter. In fact, men are continually falling into this error. 
And the worst of it is, that too often they are willing to 
be deceived. At least I know not how otherwise to 
account for such facts as these. A man of plausible 
ways, specious manners, versatility, wit, tact in social 
converse, will find entrance, where if his recognition 
were made to depend on the amount of real manhood 
in him, he would find the door slammed in his face. 
A person whose entire mental capital is the airy noth- 
ings that sparkle like froth on the surface of fashionable 
society, will be welcomed, where if a respectable amount 
of intelligence, and a respectable number of elevated 
ideas were required as the price of admission, he would 
be a hopeless candidate for recognition. A person who 
is versed in the art of flattery, who is careful only to 
please and acquire popularity, and careless to compro- 
mise either the truth or his own integrity will be re- 
ceived with open arms, while another whose exterior is 
the leaden casket, hiding the jewel of a noble soul, who 
despises trickery and affectation, whose slightest thought 
or feeling contains more heart and brain than the former 
could put into a life, finds cold cheer and freezing wel- 
come. 

Again, we often fail to distinguish as we should be- 
tween a man's former and his present self. There are 
cases, to be sure, where it is right to remember a man 
as he was, rather than as he is. This is the right of any 
grand old man, the hero of a glorious life campaign, in 
whom the fire of the past now flickers but feebly, and 
in whom only the shadow of the departed greatness 
remains. But, on the other hand, we often let the 



I4-* LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

shadow of an unfortunate past obscure the true beauty 
and worth of the present. The memory of anything 
disadvantageous will haunt one through life, eclipsing 
much real merit. There are those whom a single fail- 
ure drags down and keeps down. There is a social 
pride which never forgets, never forgives. 

Not so has Christ taught us — <( Bear ye one another's 
burdens" is his law. " Whoso shall offend one of 
these little ones, which believe in me, it were better 
that a mill-stone were hanged about his neck, and that 
he were drowned in the depths of the sea." " Judge 
not according to the appearance, but judge righteous 
judgment. ' i By their fruits, not by their professions, 
ye shall know them." Such, also, is the example which 
he has left us. The smooth plausibilities of the Phari- 
see did not impose on him. The stammering diffidence 
of the Publican did not excite his contempt. The os- 
tentatious hospitality of the rich did not dazzle his 
eyes and prevent his seeing and rebuking its hollow- 
ness. In the widow's mite, he saw a love larger than 
all the other money in the treasury could measure. He 
sees everyone as he is, and whosoever cometh to him 
he will in no wise cast out. So does Christ love men ; 
thus does he command us: "As I have loved you, 
love ye one another." 

III. The love which Christ bears for men and which 
is the standard of our love, may be most fully summed 
up by calling it the love of a brother. We have seen 
how the various circles of human relationship too often 
degenerate into nurseries of selfish views and prejudices. 
Sectional feelings, party animosities, sectarian bigotries, 
social exclusiveness, family pride, the narrowmindedness 
of faction, the superciliousness of caste — ahese are so 
many indications of the way in which the brotherhood 
of the human family is encroached upon by the exag- 



SERMONS. 143 

gerated and perverted sentiment of narrow spheres. 
How are these to be resisted ? I answer, by looking 
at our brotherhood as Christ reveals it. He is identi- 
fied with humanity, that runs all the way through 
every degree and condition of human life. No man, 
whatever his race, rank, nation, profession, style, or 
type of character, may not say "Christ is my brother." 
He brings all together before God, and says, "Call no 
man your Father upon the Earth, for one is your 
Father which is in heaven, and all ye are brethren." 
Not one body of men anywhere can say with any ex- 
clusive claim, " Christ is ours." He had not where to 
lay his head. Yet Nicodemus, the ruler, stood up for 
him in the Sanhedrim, and brought myrrh and aloes to 
embalm his body, and Joseph, the rich man of Arima- 
thea, procured his body of Pilate and laid it in his own 
new tomb. He preached to the poor, and the rich came 
to take counsel of him. He dined with the wealthy 
Pharisee, he ate with publicans and sinners. The com- 
mon people heard him gladly, and the educated mar- 
veled at his wisdom. His character was so symmetrical 
that no one type will express it. He combined the 
force, the massiveness, the breadth of man, with the 
tenderness, the refinement, the depth of woman. He 
was stern as the rock, gentle as the dew ; bold as the 
lion, meek as the lamb ; wise as the serpent, harmless 
as the dove. He is the center where all perfection 
meets. His manhood rises above all like the mount- 
ains, it expands over all like the firmanent, it shines 
upon all like the light, and every one everywhere can 
always say of him, as we say of mountains, of heavens, 
of light, " He is mine." 

And now it is our duty to lift ourselves up to Christ, 
to reach out to every point in the circumference of his 
life, to come forth out of that narrow, contracted, un- 



144 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

natural self, into which the world with its thousand 
adverse powers squeezes us, into that broad, free, gen- 
erous manhood, of which Christ is the type. We must 
outgrow the narrowness and littleness and shallowness, 
into which our lives run here and there ; we must get 
rid of the conventionalisms, the professionalisms which 
grow around us ; we must strive to exert an influence 
not narrow and partial, like that which the old astrolo- 
gers attributed to the planets, but quickening, enlarging, 
fructifying, like that of the summer sun. In proportion 
as we become like Christ shall we be recognized and 
claimed by all as brethren. In loving and treating each 
man as a brother Christ regards all the facts of his con- 
dition and recognizes f?he circumstances which have acted 
en him, and which have extended an important influ- 
ence in forming his character and deciding his destiny. 
The Bible takes pains to tell us that Christ is ' \ touched 
with the feeling of our infirmities, for in that he himself 
hath suffered being tempted, he is able to succor them 
that are tempted." He sees in every man a brother, 
who has been agitated by conflicting emotions, who has 
been driven hither and thither by distracting passions, 
who has been tossed about by the winds of temptation, 
buffeted by the waves of affliction, wrecked it may be 
on the " Shoals of guilt," who has made the voyage of 
life amid storms and breakers, with broken masts, torn 
sails, shattered rudder, and leaky sides. He sees not 
one whose will has been his destiny, not one who has 
molded his character, as our artist forms his statue in 
the studio where in quiet and uninterrupted communion 
with his ideal, he gradually and carefully molds his 
cast, and chisels the marble into the image of the dream 
of his brain, — but in man Christ sees one who has been 
shaping his life in the rough quarry, where his foot slips, 
where his hand is struck aside, where the hurricane or ava- 



SERMONS. 145 

lanche dashes down his work. He sees one who is tempted, 
who is weak, whose mind and will are not always his own. 
He sees him come into the world of evil influences, 
with susceptibilities to bad impressions, with deranged 
sensibilities, with inherited infirmities, with no knowl- 
edge of himself, or of the world, or of what lies before 
him, assailed by strong temptations, blinded by errors, 
whirled by the tempest, dashed from fall to fall, each 
leaving him weaker and more helpless than he was be- 
fore. Christ sees all this : and although he himself fell 
not, although he knew no defeat, no overthrow, no 
wreck, he knows what it is to be tried. He is filled 
with sympathy. He knows how guilty we are, none 
better ; it was because he knew so well our guilt, that 
he endured the cross ; but he also knows — none better, 
how weak we are, how ignorant, how helpless. ' ' Father, 
forgive them! they know not what they do!" Thus 
did he pray when his holy heart was most deeply grieved 
by the iniquity of man, when the exceeding sinfulness 
of sin stood revealed before him in its most damning 
deed. Yea ! it was even in that hour that the thief at 
his side was encouraged to pray, "Lord! remember 
me when thou comest into thy Kingdom ! " Not as a 
cold, unfeeling censor does Christ receive sinners; nor 
even as a stern, impartial judge, robed in the severity 
of Eternal Justice: Nay! but as a brother, unfallen, in- 
fallible, Divine, but as a brother still. He does not 
indeed extenuate our unworthiness, he does not hide 
from us our guilt, nor make us forget how deeply we 
have sinned, — Ah, no ! Where — where do we feel so un- 
worthy, where does the load of our guilt feel so heavy, 
where do the depths of our heart's degradation appear 
so dreadful, where do we feel such shame, such self- 
condemnation, such humiliation as in the arms of Jesus? 
But, oh ! where is such confidence, such beaming hope, 



I46 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

such cheerful self-abandonment, . such joyous boldness, 
such delightful assurance as on the bosom of our Lord, 
on the heart of our Elder Brother? 

The love of Jesus ! Who can describe it ? It is the 
same forever. It suffers no unfaithfulness, or unworthi- 
ness in its object to cool or change it. It measures 
itself by no merit in that on which it bestows itself. 
It has no tides and ebbs; no such barriers as circum- 
scribe our love. No ! Ah, No ! It is its own measure ; 
its own law; its own cause. It is its own source; its 
own channel ; its own supply ; its own moving' energy. 
He loves because to love is his life, because to love is 
worthy of himself, because if he were to cease loving, 
he would cease to be the Son of God. And his love 
clothes whomsoever he loves, with its own glory. It 
carries the poor, imperfect, sin-stricken soul to its 
Mount of Transfiguration, and there beholds it in its 
future brightness and perfection, as the Disciples in the 
Mount beheld their Lord in the radiance of his coming 
glory. As Christ receives us into his fellowship and 
love, he sees in us not what others see, but Himself, 
the Lord from Heaven. He receives the weary wan- 
derer without upbraiding, with no reproaches, but with 
a love which breaks down the heart more completely 
than the severest censure, with a winning gentleness, 
whose silent eloquence is more overpowering than the 
loudest chidings, welcoming him with open arms and 
open heart to the hospitalities of boundless and endless 
grace. Shall we, companions in guilt, hold one another 
off, and act the censor, criticising, condemning, tortur- 
ing one another with the refined cruelties of sanctimo- 
nious self-righteousness? Ah! brethren, the holier 
we become, the more we have of the spirit and love of 
Christ, the less will there be of that, and the more of 
brotherly welcome, guidance, and aid. The more we 



SERMONS. 147 

are in Christ, the more shall we be one in Christ. Out 
of Christ there can be no brotherhood, in Christ there 
can be nothing else. All elements of difference and 
incompatibility are there annulled ; every partition wall 
is broken down. "Ye are all the children of God by 
faith in Jesus Christ. For as many of you as have been 
baptized in Christ have put on Christ. There is neither 
Jew nor Greek ; there is neither bond nor free ; there 
is neither male nor female ; for ye are all one in Jesus 
Christ." 

Let this be our aim : to love more as our Elder 
Brother loves, with a love which will be itself a living 
proof that we are his brethren, because our love is 
something like his. 



VI. 

LIVING WATER. 

John 4, 14, latter part. The water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of 
water, springing up into everlasting life. 

« 

Christ is here speaking of the life which he imparts 
to the soul that believes on him. This life he de- 
scribes by one of those simple, beautiful and suggest- 
ive images, which he knew so well how to use, and 
which make the facts of religion so clear and attract- 
ive. He was sitting, a wearied and thirsty traveler, at 
the well of Jacob in the Samaritan village of Sychar. 
It was the hour of noon, and a woman of the village 
came to draw water. "Jesus saith unto her: Give 
me to drink." Bitter sectional and sectarian animosi- 
ties then existed between the inhabitants of Judea and 
Samaria, and were carried even to the suspension of 
all intercourse, so that the Samaritan woman was ex- 
ceedingly surprised at being thus accosted by a Jew, 
especially at having a favor asked of her: and she said 
to him, "How is it, that thou being a Jew, askest 
drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria?" Christ, 
as he had already shown himself far superior to such 
paltry prejudices, did not in his reply so much as al- 
lude to the matter suggested by the woman, but fall- 
ing back on his own lofty character and mission, he 
said, ' ' If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is 
(148) 



SERMONS. I49 

that saith to thee, give me to drink : thou wouldst have 
asked of him, and he would have given thee living 
water." Just as we might have expected, the woman, 
ignorant, prejudiced, superficial as she was, had not 
the remotest conception of the sublime truth thus an- 
nounced to her; but taking the terms " water" and 
" drink," in their literal sense, and having had her 
curiosity and her pride touched by the words of Je- 
sus, she replied with mingled incredulity, wonder and 
disdain, Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the 
well is deep ; from whence then hast thou this living 
water? Art thou greater than our father Jacob, which 
gave us the well and drank thereof himself and his 
children and his cattle? Christ then made to her 
that strange reply of which the text is a part, ' ' Who- 
soever drinketh of this water shall thirst again; but 
whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him 
shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him 
shall be in him a well of water springing up into ever- 
lasting life." This latter clause, to which I ask your 
especial attention, seems designed to expand and still 
further develop the truth implied in the gift of living 
water. Christ says that this gift is not a boon to sat- 
isfy a present want, not like a cup of water given to 
quench the traveler's thirst, but a gift which is to 
abide, to be retained, to develop the same, and even 
greater results, a " fountain springing up into ever- 
lasting life." 

This image of a fountain will suggest to your minds 
several characteristics of the Christian life. It may 
suggest the idea of purity. As it oozes upward and 
greets the light, strained through the filter of sand and 
gravel and soil, how it sparkles with brightness, and 
how its drops shine with the transparency of crystals ! 
Such is holiness, pure as the unstained diamond, clear 



150 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

as the dew ! It may suggest the idea of fulness. The 
heat of summer may parch the surrounding region, dry 
up all the standing pools and reservoirs which are filled 
from the clouds; but the little fountain, defying the 
globe of fire which makes the heaven as brass, pours 
forth, in undiminished fullness, its bright and limpid 
waters. Such is the life of God in the soul. Earthly 
possessions may pass away, worldly comforts may per- 
ish, present supplies may fail, but this life will still send 
forth streams of undiminished power and joy. It may 
also suggest the idea of life. It is not a stagnant, dead 
mass on which the slime gathers, over which death 
broods, and which exhales deadly vapors, it is an ac- 
tive, moving body, never at rest, ever rolling up vol- 
umes of influence, which will be felt as far as the 
streams born of it can travel. So, of the holy life. 
It is true life, incessant activity, self-purifying and 
earth renewing. 

A fountain will also suggest joy. As it bubbles up, 
and gurgles in its depths, and trickles over its basin's 
edge, its drops tinkling like tiny bells of silver, and 
gathering themselves together to murmur their way 
along in melodious sounds, is it not a very child of 
joy? Is not its birth a laugh, and its life a song? So 
also is the heavenly life born of the joys of heaven, 
and in every ripple of gladness that smiles on its sur- 
face, is mirrored the fulness of joy that flows at the 
right hand of God. A spring will suggest beneficence, 
unselfishness. How genuine it is ; never hoarding, ever 
giving, one drop running away that it may make room 
for another, while it bestows itself somewhere else. 
And such is the life of Divine Love, never hoarding, 
ever giving, or hoarding only that it may give, squan- 
dering itself, lavishing itself, content to lose itself, to be 
changed (so to speak) into vapor, dew or rain, or to 



SERMONS. 1 5 I 

run on in the humble channel of life, and to be left at 
the root of some ' ' tree, planted by rivers of waters, 
that shall bring forth fruit in his season." Once more, 
a fountain will convey the idea of blessing. Not only 
does it give, but it gives to bless, to cool and slake the 
parched lips of the wanderer, to supply the daily needs 
of a neighborhood, to send forth streams which will dif- 
fuse greenness, freshness and life. It is a source whence 
many may draw the waters of consolation and strength, 
the source of gladness and holy influences, wherever it 
reaches. 

But it is not to any one of these characteristics that 
I desire your attention now, but to the idea suggested 
by a fountain of the holy life as a life of free, uncon- 
scious, spontaneous obedience. 

What a delightful unconsciousness there is about a 
fountain as it plays up from the hidden deep, not spout- 
ing up in spasmodic jets, but gushing upward calmly, 
constantly, yet irresistibly, winning its way through, and 
by all obstructions, flowing forth in wild, untrammelled 
liberty, and winding onward at his own sweet will, and 
doing it all as though it could not help it, as though it 
loved to do so, as though it were its habit, its way, its 
life to do so. Such, also, ought a holy life to be — a 
life of natural, instinctive force, outflowing of the purest 
sympathies, the heavenliest affections, the holiest de- 
sires, the divinest purposes. Such a life it ought to 
be; such a life it is in its perfection. 

If the question be asked — what is that life of Chris- 
tian perfection, after which we are encouraged to strive ? 
— there are, of course, many answers which might be 
given; for perfection includes everything that can be 
said or thought of the highest state attainable to man. 
It is the culmination of every godlike power, the con- 



152 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

summation of every holy hope and endeavor, the coro- 
nation of every heavenward aspiration and prayer. 

Take any quality of a good life, purity, spirituality, 
love, carry it up to the highest point of power and 
glory conceived as possible for it, and you will be led 
to at least one true aspect of perfection. It is im- 
possible from the nature of the case to give all of its 
elements in a single definition. But one statement 
about it which has at least some practical value is this : 
Perfection is a state in which holiness is the soul's 
habit ; in which love is the settled law of the life. 

But, if again the question be put: What is habit? 
we meet with more than one answer also to this. It 
is often said that habit is a second nature, a second 
self; this conveys a vivid practical idea of the strength, 
authority, tenacity of habit, the hold which it has on a 
man, the deepness with which it enters into a man ; 
although it is not a strict philosophical truth — as it 
conveys the idea, or seems to convey the idea, that 
there is a first nature, a first self behind, second or 
underlying it ; which is not the case, for the whole self, 
the whole nature, is incorporated with the habits of 
the man, and grows up into them. I would say that a 
man's habit is a way of using himself acquired by con- 
stant doing of the same thing. It is the impetus which 
man's performances acquire by motion in a given di- 
rection, which carries them on by its own force, the 
accumulation of power within which makes man inde- 
pendent in great measure of stimulants, or of pressure 
from without. That which the momentum acquired 
by the whirl of a fly-wheel is to the revolution of the 
wheel, such is habit to the actions of the life. In a 
holy life, it is the power which is gathered up in the 
soul by faithful and constant obedience, which helps 
man to do right without effort, almost without con- 



SERMONS. 153 

sciousness, so that all the holy thoughts which spring 
up within, and all the holy feelings which are born in 
the heart, and all the holy words which are spoken, 
and all the deeds which are performed are natural, so 
that it would be unnatural, painful, to think, speak, 
feel, or act otherwise. 

This is the condition in which man was created, or 
rather for which he was designed, and which if he had 
not fallen, he would soon have reached. We can not 
say, of course, that man was created in the habit of 
holiness, because habit is the product of time, but he 
was so created that if he had followed the law of his 
being, he would ere long have reached the state of 
spontaneous perfection, which has just been described. 
If he had never sinned he would have received the 
powers of a holy life, with little or no conscious effort 
All that he had done would have been spontaneously 
pure. The functions of the spiritual life would have 
been discharged with as little constraint as those of the 
natural life. The affections would have beat in har- 
mony with God, as the physical heart, "like a muffled 
drum," beats its regular life-march. Love would have 
been an inspiration. I do not say that there would 
have been no labor, no effort of any kind. That would 
have been necessary to develop strength and firmness 
of character. But there would have been no such con- 
ception of effort in his obedience, as there is now. 
There would have been no friction, no clogs within. 
There would have been the same kind of unconsciousness 
and spontaneousness as we find in perfect health. A 
man who is perfectly healthy does not, of course, ab- 
solutely forget that he has a body. Hunger, thirst, 
weariness, will remind him, at intervals, of that. His 
muscles are sometimes strained ; his nerves are occa- 
sionally excited ; and the blood often rushes in its 



154 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

courses like a swelling torrent, and glows in his face 
with the fire of unwonted energy. But still he is never 
reminded of his body as the sick man is, a hundred 
times a day, by irregularities, disturbances, and pains, 
here and there, in the bodily machinery. He uses his 
body as a skillful workman handles his tools, as a part 
of himself. When one is engaged in writing, his mind 
reaches beyond his finger-tips, down to the very point 
of the pen in his hand, so that a little hair in the split 
annoys him as though it touched himself. When the 
painter is engaged on his picture, his brush and pallet 
are situated for the time being within the limits of his 
own consciousness, enveloped in the sensations of his 
own imagination. 

The violinist, as he holds his instrument in his arm, 
embraces it as though it were a part of his own being, 
and the sounds which he draws out with his bow are 
drawn out of the depths of his own soul. As long as 
a man's implements do their duty properly, he does 
not think of them at all, but of his work. So does the 
man in perfect health use his body. And so also would 
a perfectly holy soul employ all its powers and apti- 
tudes and instrumentalities. The life of the soul, the 
life of Divine Love, would have filled the powers, in- 
formed them, inspired them, carried on their activities 
by a heavenly momentum, imparted by the moving im- 
pact of God's own spirit. 

The chain of influences between God and the mani- 
festations of holiness would have been perfect and 
unbroken. The connection between whatsoever is 
divinely fair and the soul's motives would have been 
instantaneous, and the connection between motive and 
action would have been electric. Man would have 
been an instrument discoursed upon by God himself, 
and yielding the purest harmonies. 



SERMONS. 1 5 5 

Such is the state for which God designed man, and 
such is the state to which he would restore him. I do 
not think that the New Holiness will be in every 
respect precisely like the Old. It will be higher, 
nobler even than that ; that grace may ' ' much more 
abound " through it. But they are just alike in this : 
that in each the love of God will be a spontaneous 
uprising, a fountain springing up into everlasting 
life. But you will say that such a state is unattain- 
able here. To love God spontaneously, to do right 
instinctively, to find it infinitely easier to serve God 
faithfully than to be unfaithful, even in the least, that is 
to be perfect; and perfection is beyond our present 
reach. Well, if it is, it is none the less our duty to 
try to be perfect. It is our fault that we are not 
perfect. It is our duty to search after perfection, and 
this life is the beginning of the life that is to be per- 
fect, and if we do not try to be perfect, one thing is 
sure, we never shall be. But there are two kinds of 
perfection, absolute and comparative. The latter we 
are commanded to possess now. Although we may 
not attain a state in which every virtue is at once a full 
grown power, and every habit an all-controlling, never- 
failing instinct, we may reach a state in which habits 
of holiness will greatly preponderate, and have a most 
decided ascendancy. We may by constant practice of 
the virtues, acquire an overmastering tendency toward 
them and a facility in their exercise. 

The condition of habit, if indeed, we may not say 
the productive cause, is repetition. Its law is this: 
that by frequent and persistent iteration, by doing the 
same thing over and over, the powers both of body 
and mind acquire a facility in doing it, and an impulse 
to keep on doing it. The dexterity with which a me- 
chanic manipulutes his work, with which the composi- 



I56 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

tor picks up and puts together the type, with which 
the writer handles the pen and traces words on paper, 
the quickness with which the eye in reading seizes on 
combinations of letters, and groups them into sentences 
and grasps their meaning, the rapidity with which the 
musician fingers the keys or strings of his instrument — 
all this is acquired by use, by long and patient prac- 
tice. And this is the case not only with fingers, eyes, 
feet and muscles, but also with the power of mind. 

By practice men acquire a most marvelous facility 
in exercising the powers of calculation, combination, 
analysis and construction. The same is true even of 
the moral powers. There is a dexterity (if I may so 
say) of the conscience, a quickness in detecting wrong, 
a rapidity in deciding in matters of duty, which can 
only be possessed by a faithful cultivation of the moral 
sensibilities, and of the intellectual judgments and ex- 
ecutive faculties, which are called into activity. So of 
faith ; the man who believes and trusts from day to day, 
finds it much easier to believe and trust. But not only 
does habit imply a facility in doing anything, but also 
the impulse to keep on doing it. I need not stop now 
to illustrate this. All know, by experience, what it is 
to have gotten into the habit to do this or the other, 
so that you feel continually inclined to do that which 
you have been used to do, you feel restlesss, you do 
not feel right unless you are still doing it, and often 
you find yourself involuntarily doing it. Men some- 
times try to apologize for their errors on this principle : 
"Oh!" they say, "it is so much a habit that you 
must overlook it this time." That is to say, we have 
done it so often, that we can not help ourselves now, 
and, therefore, we are not so much to blame; frequent 
repetition of the error or wrong, the impulse to do it, 
has gained an overpowering ascendency over us ! Is that 



SERMONS. 157 

a good excuse? Admitting that it may be alleged in 
extenuation (not in justification, but in extenuation) of 
some particular action, does it relieve a man of his re- 
sponsibility for the habit? The same may be said on 
the other side. You can not fairly detract from the 
merit of any good deed by saying — Ah ! it is the 
man's habit. He can not help himself. Why, you 
could not pay a man a higher compliment than that. 
A habit of doing right? A habit of speaking kind 
words and of doing kind deeds ? A habit of telling 
the truth? A habit of showing justice towards all? 
All the better for him ! All the more for his credit ! 
It is just as good as to say that he has done these things 
so often, so long and so earnestly, that to do them is to 
be himself, and that not to do them, would not be to be 
himself. All honor to such a man ! Everybody will say 
that. And yet, in the next breath, a man will pass by 
the slave of some evil habit, who has weakly indulged 
some passion, until it has become a tyrant ; who has 
done some unmanly, some unworthy deed over and 
over, until impulse to do it overpowers all resistance, 
or even takes away the desire to resist ; and everybody 
now says, "Poor fellow! You must not be too severe 
on him. He can not break away from that habit." It 
is sad ! but the worse for him. The greater his guilt. 
Where did the habit come from ? God did not give it 
to him. He made it himself. It is the result of a long 
course of sinning. He forged his own fetters. He sold 
himself to the tyrant. This being the law of habit, 
that it is formed by constant iteration of the same deeds, 
by frequent repetition of the same motives, feelings and 
actions, it follows that the strength, of any habit is pro- 
portioned to the frequency and constancy with which it 
is repeated. Not only is aptitude for doing any thing 
increased by much practice, not only can we do it with 



l$b LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

much greater ease and dispatch, but the tendency, the 
impulse to do it, is greatly strengthened. On the other 
hand by negligence, by omission, by irregularity and 
infrequency in the performance, the habit loses its 
power ; the aptitude for it is diminished, and the im- 
pulse toward it is enfeebled. 

One of the great problems of a true life is to bring 
every good feeling and activity within the sphere of 
habit, to make all the duties of life, and all the graces 
of life — habits. We should make a habit of every 
duty. It should be performed so frequently and con- 
stantly that it will become easy, and that there will be 
an ever present desire to do it. Take for example the 
duty of prayer. We are commanded to "pray with- 
out ceasing." What is that? You answer, — to be 
always in the spirit of prayer. . Certainly that is im- 
plied. We can not pray always, unless we are in the 
spirit of it. But that is not all. We are to be in the 
habit of praying, which (I take it) means more than to 
be in the spirit of it, at least as the words are com- 
monly understood. To be in the spirit of doing any- 
thing, is to be ready to do it when opportunity occurs ; 
to be in the habit of doing it, is to be doing it, and to 
make opportunities if they do not exist. I think that 
here is a little loophole through which some try to 
creep. They know that prayer as a formal act can not 
be all the time performed, and so they content them- 
selves with being, as they hope, in the spirit of prayer 
always, namely, in a certain frame of mind in which, if 
it is quite convenient otherwise, they will be ready to 
pray. Now that is not being quite up to the mark. 
Habit makes opportunity. Habit begets an impulse 
which will make itself felt, which will assert its power 
and compel a man to yield to it. He who is in the 
habit of praying, or of performing any other duty, will 



I 



SERMONS. 159 

feel a continually recurring impulse, constraining him 
to do it with a heavenly compulsion, so that he can 
not be at rest, without engaging in it. I have instanced 
prayer, but the same is true of praise. We should be 
in the habit of praising God, just as the birds are in 
the habit of singing all the day long. "Be not 
drunk with wine, wherein is excess, but be ye filled 
with the spirit; [Be always full of a joyous holy ex- 
citement; and how shall that excitement show itself?] 
Speaking to (among) yourselves in psalms and hymns 
and spiritual songs, making melody in your heart to 
God." " Be in the habit of meditating on holy things." 
* ' Blessed is the man whose delight is in the law of the 
Lord, and in his law doth he meditate day and night." 
4 ' Ah ! how love I thy law, it is my meditation all the 
day." Cultivate the habit of thinking on heavenly 
themes, magnetize your mind with them until it points 
continually toward God, like the needle toward the 
pole. Cultivate the habit of Christian activity. ' l Be 
always abounding in the work of the Lord." " As we 
have opportunity, let us do good unto all." 

But how, you say, "can so many habits be sus- 
tained?" How can a man be in the habit of doing 
so many things? My only answer is: Try it! You 
will never believe how many things can be done at 
once, until you try. The musician, who dashes his 
fingers up and down his instrument, producing different 
melodies and intricate harmonies, and at the same time 
holds an intelligent conversation with a friend, and sees 
all that is going on about him, once had to bend to- 
gether all his energies to produce a simple air without 
any accompaniment. What is the secret of the differ- 
ence between his first and present efforts ? Habit. 
He has learned the habit of seeing and of thinking and 
of executing a great many things in one instant of 



160 LLEWEYLN IOAN EVANS. 

time. And do you not suppose that we can learn to 
crowd together a great many good and holy habits into 
one and the same moment ? Moreover : Every grace 
of the Christian life should become a habit. It should 
be our habit to be grateful, as it is the habit of the 
rose to be fragrant. The act of faith should become 
the habit of faithfulness. The act of hope should be- 
come the habit of waiting. The act of love should 
become the habit of love: for love is its own habit, as 
it is its own law, its own reward. 

Let it be observed: that there is an essential and 
radical difference between habit and formality. Every 
duty, every grace, has two elements : the form and the 
spirit, the soul and the body. Formalism is the repe- 
tition of the external form. Habit is the repetition of 
the whole duty, or of the whole grace, and especially 
of the spirit of each. A man, let us suppose, offers a 
particular prayer to God, a genuine prayer, a true, 
fervent offering of the soul. He takes so much delight 
in the duty that he recurs to it again. For a few 
times he experiences the like pleasure in it. But his 
heart gradually becomes cold; his enjoyment ceases; 
and, although, from some superstitious notion, or 
Pharisaical vanity, he repeats, it may be, the same peti- 
tions, that is all ; there is nothing but the phrases, the 
form. 

Another reproduces not only the form, but the 
spirit ; he experiences the same wants, the same fervor, 
the same desires, the same delight in the exercise, as 
when he first engaged in it. In the one case prayer is 
a formality; in the other a habit. 

There are men whose present is but the echo of a 
dead past, whose days are lifeless walls, that but take 
up and roll on the voices of other and better days. 
Once those voices meant something; they came from 



SERMONS. l6l 

a living heart; but that heart is now stagnant and 
buried, and the voices are without a soul. The man of 
dead formalities, compared with the man of living 
habits, is like one who plays on the keys of an organ 
when there is no wind in the pipes, compared with one 
who plays while the living breath rushes through the 
tubes, and who, as he touches every key, unlocks some 
sweet mystery of sound. Both go through the same 
forms, the same motions, both finger alike, and touch 
the same keys, but in the one case the result is clatter- 
ing of ivory, in the other music. I have seen it stated 
that the great pianist, Liszt, when riding or traveling, 
has a dumb key-board in his carriage on which he 
practices his fingers, that they may be always ready to 
make a perfect response to every demand that may be 
made on them. Now there is the same difference be- 
tween the man of mere forms, and the man of intelli- 
gent and conscientious habits, as there is between 
Liszt going through the forms of piano playing on 
dumb pieces, to keep his fingers nimble and vigorous, 
and Liszt over a deep-toned, perfectly attuned instru- 
ment, inspired by his theme, flashing forth inspiration 
in every touch, sweeping the key-board with a hand 
more potent than the wand of a magician, and making 
the air a temple of song. Formalism plays the keys, 
but they are dumb ! They give no response. They do 
not strike the chords where harmony resides. Habit 
touches them and the air is vocal with joy. The 
strings of the Universal Harp are struck, and ring with 
divinest tones. Every touch is a living soul, a power 
that creates vibrations not only on earth, but in heaven, 
yea, in the heart of God himself. 

Hence, also, we see why formalism becomes tedious, 
monotonous, dead. It brings down no response, no 
utterance of Divine enlightenment or joy. There is 



1 62 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

no living connection between it and the sources of pure 
and elevated delight. It becomes wearisome. Who 
would not tire of playing forever on dumb keys? It 
receives no reward, nothing to minister nourishment or 
strength or joy. But a holy habit perpetually renews 
itself. It is a pleasing melody, a theme ever the same, 
yet ever varying, of which the soul never tires. It 
keeps up a living communication between the soul and 
the other world. It causes new blessings daily to 
descend upon the life, that bring into the heart the 
sweetness of heaven. But these habits are to be 
formed. They are not born with us into the world. 
God does not give them to us. We must make them 
for ourselves. We have lost that power of spontane- 
ous obedience which our nature had at the beginning. 
We can recover it only by forming a new habit of 
obedience, only by applying ourselves with such de- 
light to the performance of every duty, that our whole 
nature will be transformed into a new manhood, another 
and a better self. Everything depends upon the way 
in which they are formed. Their strength, their power 
over us, will be in proportion to the constancy with 
which we apply ourselves to their formation. Hence 
it is that Christ makes so much of faithfulness. Re- 
ligion is not to be carried on by fits and starts. It is 
not a volcano, which sends forth eruptions, at uncertain 
intervals, and sleeps in the meanwhile. It is a fount- 
ain pouring itself forth steadily and continually. The 
formation of good habits is the work of time. This 
would have been the case even with Adam, if he had 
never sinned. How much more with us, who have so 
many old habits to be overcome, as well as new habits 
to be formed ? Do not then on the one hand be too 
hasty, and flatter yourself that your habits are com- 
pletely formed, when they are only just begun. On 



SERMONS. I63 

the other hand, do not be discouraged at finding their 
growth to be so slow. Let patience have her perfect 
work. And good habits once formed must be main- 
tained. The same process which formed them is 
necessary to preserve them. Remember that good 
habits are much more easily lost than acquired. A 
day of negligence undoes the work of a month of ap- 
plication. And, finally, although we have to form our 
own habits, let us remember that Christ alone can give 
the spirit by which they are to be formed. "The 
water that I shall give him, shall be in him a well of 
water, springing up into everlasting life." 



VII. 

FORGETTING THE THINGS WHICH ARE BEHIND. 

Philippians 3 : 13. 

This is a part of Paul's experience. I have cited it 
as a rule of action for us. It is not always that one 
man's experience can be safely looked to by others as 
a model for imitation, but the disclosures which Paul 
makes of his inner life, present an ideal after w r hich 
others may strive. This is especially true of the glow- 
ing and elevated self-revelations which he gives us in 
this chapter. Nothing nobler, nothing sublimer, can 
be found in the history of any human soul. No won- 
der that impelled by such motives, regulated by such 
principles and directed toward such ends, his life was a 
success. Life is sometimes called an art. We speak 
of the art of living. By this it is not meant that life 
is to be opposed to nature. True art is always in per- 
fect harmony with nature. It is not meant that it is 
in any respect false ; for perfect art is truth. It is not 
meant that it is made up of shifts and expedients, for 
a true life like true art has unity, and all the parts are 
necessary to the whole. But it is meant that success 
in life depends on certain conditions and laws, which 
can not be set aside or changed. It is only by com- 
plying with those conditions, and obeying those laws 
that we can secure the proper results of life. We have 
(164) 



SERMONS. 165 

several of these conditions grouped together in the pas- 
sage which has already been quoted, in which Paul de- 
scribes his experience. One of these he calls " For- 
getting the things which are behind." Another, he 
immediately afterward calls, "Reaching forth unto those 
things which are before." The former defines his treat- 
ment of the past, the latter of the future. Plow to 
deal with one and the other of these two great factors 
of life is a question of no small practical moment. 
Standing as we do between the two, or rather moving 
as we are continually from one to the other, outgrow- 
ing the one and growing up unto the other, leaving the 
one behind us, and yet followed by it, reaching out 
toward the other and yet finding it ever before us, the 
question is an important one : How shall we make the 
most of either? Plow shall we make the best use of 
the things which are behind us, of the facts and expe- 
riences, the conditions which have gone from us; and 
how shall we make the best use of the things which 
are before us, of the states, the experiences, the acqui- 
sitions, which are not yet ours ? 

Sometimes in a journey we come to a turning point 
from which we see at a glance all the way along which 
we have come, or all the way along which we are to 
go. So there are turning points in life which bring be- 
fore us now the entire Past, now the far-stretching Fu- 
ture. Sometimes we stand as on the top of Pisgah, 
and see the Promised Land spreading before us in all 
its glorious extent, a land overflowing with milk and 
honey. Again, we are like an Alpine traveler, who 
reaches some lofty summit whence he can look back 
and see down below him in the distance the village 
whence he began his journey, the green, smiling mead- 
ows which skirted its first stages, the rising slopes 
which formed the mountain's base, the steeper declivities 



1 66 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

which next awaited him, the narrow defiles through which 
he threaded his way, the rugged path up which he toiled, 
and the almost pathless precipices which he must scale 
to reach the summit. On this last Sabbath of the Old 
Year, we naturally, inevitably, look back. The Past rises 
before us and invites us to commune with it. If we are 
ever in the habit of reflecting, we shall ask ourselves 
to-day, What have we been? What have we done? 
What have we passed through? What have we 
gained ? What lost ? What have we missed ? What 
escaped ? Wherein have we succeeded ? Wherein 
failed? What if this or that had been otherwise? 
Such reflections are unavoidable, but how to profit 
by them ? For it is not always those most given to 
reverie that are the wisest. It is not enough to muse 
over that which has been, or which may be, to brood 
over the lost, to dream about the impossible, to take 
up the fragments of life and to piece them together 
this way and that way ; it is not enough even to order 
back the phantoms of days and months and years, to 
question them, and bid them tell over their tales of 
sorrow, of labor, of tedium, of excitement, of joy. 
Most of us, doubtless, do this at times, but what we 
need is to gaze backward, so that our forward vision 
will be clearer, to brood over the Past in such a way 
that in the very act of brooding the soul may replume 
her wings for a loftier flight, to win from the ghosts of 
past years the secrets which we have failed to learn of 
the years themselves ; this is what we need. For this 
Past which invites us to hold converse with itself; 
whose whispers mingle even now with the moan of 
the dying year, what is it, in a word ? Scan it closely — 
is it not a mirror in which you see yourself? Yes, that 
is what it is. It is self. A dead self it may be, which 
you had sought to bury, which you had hoped never 



SERMONS. 167 

more to see. Is it so ? Ah ! vain hope ! It confronts 
you once more ! You must look in it. You must hear 
it. A forgotten self perhaps : you recognize it now 
that you see it. Yes! you were that once — but you 
are so different now, you had well nigh forgotten that 
self. A child self, perhaps : Ah, well ! is the child 
the father of the man ? And was that self the father 
of what you now are ? It must be so, and yet it seems 
strange even to you. More likely still, you see a self 
neither dead nor forgotten, but one that is fading every 
day into greater obscurity. You have not become 
transformed into something else yet, and you hope you 
may never become an entire stranger to that which you 
once were : you say — 

u And I could wish my days to be 
Bound each to each by natural piety." 

There is a growing difference between you and the 
self of other days, and yet you are changing. It may 
be the Past which visits you is a well known familiar 
self, which has come to you again and again, so that 
you recognize it at once as an old friend. So few have 
been the changes of your life, so even has been the 
tenor of your way, that at the close of each year it is 
the same Past which faces you, the same self which 
reflects itself on you. And so, you see, the difficulties 
which meet us in dealing with the problem of the Past 
are precisely those which meet us in dealing with the 
problem of self. The Past has become a part of our- 
selves, at least, in so far as it is at all available to us in 
the Present. The sights which we have beheld, the in- 
fluences which we have felt, the experiences through 
which we have passed, have indelibly stamped them- 
selves on our souls, have incorporated themselves with 
our very being. When we ask: How shall we best 
profit by the Past ? what we want to know is, how 



1 68 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

shall we learn wisdom from our former self? How 
shall we make that which we have been, help us in be- 
coming that which we ought to be? A problem, this, 
which is easy for none, but which presents to some the 
most serious difficulties. The Past is much more pro- 
ductive of results to some than to others. The Pauline 
rule of the text, however, is a simple one which all 
can use. "Forgetting the things which are behind." 
Of course this does not mean literal forgetfulness, for 
we can not profit much by that which we have abso- 
lutely forgotten. Besides entire forgetfulness is impos- 
sible. Except in the imagination of poets there is no 
Lethe, no river whose waters can bestow the gift of 
oblivion. Or, if there were such a river, would you 
drink of it ? Would you forget everything ? Granted 
that there are some things which you might wish buried 
beyond the possibility of resurrection, are there not^ 
other things which you would desire yet more earnestly 
to retain ? Alas for the man who for the sake of blot- 
ting out a part of his past, would make a blank of the 
whole ! But, you may ask, are there not some things 
which we may try to forget ? Of course there are many 
things which are sure to be forgotten, not indeed, ab- 
solutely and forever, but still, practically and for a 
time. It may be questioned whether any impression 
whatever, made at any time on the mind, is ever wholly 
effaced. In the light of Eternity thousands upon thou- 
sands of lines, which now seem to have disappeared, 
will reappear, clear and distinct as when they were first 
engraved, and what a page will be that of memory, read 
in that light ! Now, however, very much that is written 
on that page seems to fade out after a time, or to be_ 
come very dim The proportion of what is remembered 
to what is for the time forgotten is in the case of most 
persons, small. After all, this seems to be a necessary 



SERMONS. 169 

and wise provision in our present education. It may 
be doubted whether the growth of the mind could be 
sufficiently healthy if it retained everything indiscrimi- 
nately. Yes, it is a blessed law of life's discipline that 
for the present we forget so much more than we re- 
member. Now, although the faculty of memory is not 
subject wholly to our own control, it is unquestionable 
that we may learn to remember or to forget, in great 
part at least, according to our desire. There are things 
which we may in time forget by exercising certain pre- 
cautions, and some things which we should certainly 
make an effort to forget. It were well if we could blot 
out of our memories the black impressions made by 
evil associations and the corrupting influences in the 
past. Shall we go further, and say that we are to make 
special efforts to forget all our personal failures, our 
sins, our sorrows? I think not. To do so is neither 
courageous nor wise. 

It is cowardice to shut our eyes to the sin of life, 
instead of looking it steadily in the face. It is weak- 
ness to cover up failures, and then to dream that all is 
well. Better than to forget our errors and our sins, is 
to confess them, to repent of them, and to conquer 
them. Better than to flee away from the memories of 
our griefs, is to be humbled and chastened by them. 
Shall we say then, that by forgetting the things which 
are behind, we are to understand letting the past alone ; 
giving ourselves no concern about it, one way or the 
other ; making no special effort either to drive it away 
from us, or to bring it up before us? No! that can not 
be the meaning, for it is undoubtedly our duty at times 
to summon the past before us, to interrogate it, to 
think intently, and even intensely, upon our former 
selves, to call to remembrance what we have been even 
in error, unworthiness, guilt, that we may become 



I70 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

properly humble, grateful and strong. Take the case 
of Paul again. These words, as we have seen, are a 
part of his experience. He is speaking for himself: 
"This one thing I do, forgetting the things which are 
behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are 
before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the 
high calling of God in Christ Jesus." But we know 
that Paul, the Apostle, never forgot Saul, the Perse- 
cutor. In this very connection he contrasts his past 
life with the present, his former motives and aims with 
those which now governed him ; and in all his writings 
and discourses, we find him making continual allusions 
to himself as he was, no less than to himself as he is. 
And he shrinks from nothing. He has no conceal- 
ments, no evasions, no palliations to make. There was 
no secret corner in his heart which he was afraid to 
enter, no skeleton closet, the door of which he dared 
not open. Although he calls himself the chief of sin- 
ners, we never find him expressing the wish that any 
part of his life might be cancelled. He would have 
nothing forgotten, lest the magnitude of God's grace 
shown in his salvation might seem to be diminished. 
And most assuredly Paul could not have desired the 
memory of past mercies, of former joys, of ecstatic 
hours of Divine Communion to be extinguished. The 
glory and the shame, the love and the guilt, the smiles 
and the tears, were too closely woven in the canvas of 
memory, to be separated, so that either could be taken 
out and buried in oblivion. Wherein then did Paul 
forget the things which were behind ? In this : that 
he did not rest in them. He did not stop with them. 
He did not cleave to them. He did not content him- 
self with them. The sources of his inspiration did not 
lie in them. They were not the supreme motives, the 
paramount forces of his character. His ideal was be- 






SERMONS. 171 

fore him, not behind him. It was a self to be, not a 
self that had been. His life was not hid in the past, 
it was hid with Christ in God: — "That I may win 
Christ," "that I may be found in him," " that I may 
know him and the power of his resurrection," "that I 
may attain unto the resurrection of the dead," "that 
I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended 
of Christ Jesus." These were the grand ends which 
Paul placed before himself. They were to result in the 
creation of a truer and nobler self than aught he had 
ever been as yet. Paul was no troglodyte living in a 
cave of the Past; he v/as ever coming forth into a 
larger life, into a broader and clearer light. He was 
ever growing up into a fuller and riper manhood. 
Compare his hold upon the past with the hold which 
he had on the future. He would have said: " I cast 
it away from me that I may secure that glorious im- 
mortality, this heaven, this Christ, on which I have 
laid hold, and which must be mine, and which will be 
mine forever." 

Compare his realization of things which were behind 
with his realization of the things which were before, 
of the manifestation of God's glory, and the experi- 
ences of God's love hereafter to be enjoyed. He would 
say, ' ' I have forgotten the former as one forgets the 
morning star in the glory of the risen sun." He was 
the last of all men to depreciate the goodness which 
had crowned his life with glory, and his labors with 
success, and yet as compared with the crown which he 
expected to receive at the last, the royalty with which 
God would one day clothe him, he would say, "My 
life hitherto has been a void ; my true birth is yet to 
come ; my real life is yet to be lived ; my perfect 
humanity is yet to be put on. As the life of the seed 
while it sleeps in the frozen clod is to the life it will 



172 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

live when spring and summer with influences gathered 
together from earth, and sea, and sky, are quickening 
and energizing its growth, so is the life which lies 
behind me to the life which rises before me. My life 
here is a sleep, a dream, a frozen torpid winter as com- 
pared with that waking brightness, that morning vigor, 
that summer glory and strength which await me in the 
life beyond. I account the things to which I have as 
yet attained as of little or no value, I leave them there 
in the Past ; they have answered their purpose, they 
have helped me so far, but they were after all mere 
preparations for something better, stepping stones to 
something higher. God ministers new aids to me now 
and he promises a glory to be revealed, far transcend- 
ing the highest imagination of the soul in its present 
sphere. Then when that which is perfect is come, that 
which is in part shall be done away." 

Now and then we meet with a man who says : ' ' My 
life has been a failure, I began it with glowing hopes, 
and as fair prospects as most of success. For a time 
all went well ; prosperity, comfort, peace flowed in upon 
me in abundant measure, and out of the enjoyments of 
the past I had begun to build a mansion of hope for 
the future. But alas ! its foundations have been swept 
away; its ruins have crushed my heart. In vain have 
I tried to rebuild it. In vain have I tried to even build 
anything humbler out of these broken and disordered 
fragments. My strength is gone. Let them lie. Let 
me spend the remainder of my days among them, 
looking at the moss gathering slowly on the moulder- 
ing heap, dreaming sadly of what might have been, 
but what never more will be." Friend! God never 
made man to live in a ruin, least of all in the ruin of 
himself. The Hand of Love sometimes throws down 
our airy mansions, sometimes tears down the summer 



SERMONS. 173 

arbor of roses we had built for our enjoyment, but we 
may be sure that it is always well that this should be 
done. What you call a ruin was intended, you may be 
sure, to save you from ruin ; what seems to you fail- 
ure, was designed, you may be sure, to avert a more 
disastrous failure. You may never know the danger 
which lurked within or under the walls which that 
storm shook down. You may never know the poison- 
ous serpent brood that was hatching in that bower of 
bliss in which your heart so delighted, and which the 
tempest stripped and scattered. Come out thence and 
take courage. Leave those crumbling walls behind you 
and pursue your journey. Your heart is crushed? There 
is a physician who can heal it. " The Lord healeth the 
broken in heart and bindeth up their wounds." Your 
strength is gone? " He giveth power to the faint, and 
to them that have no might he increaseth strength." 
Your life is a failure? ''All things work together for 
good to them that fear God." This plan and that plan 
may fail ; this hope and the other may disappoint you'; 
let them go ! But your life is not a failure as long as 
there is a possibility of saying of God " He is mine." 

Not seldom we meet those who rejoice in a past self 
— better, more exalted, more successful, than they now 
are. They are like one who has seen better days, who 
still occupies the old mansion where he once enjoyed 
his greatness and his wealth, although one by one the 
ornaments and furniture have disappeared or faded, and 
little remains but the bare walls. Yet there he sits and 
dreams of days when those walls gleamed with the 
splendors of art, and resounded with the echoes of song, 
and when through those halls streamed stately proces- 
sions of beauty and joy. So there are those who sur- 
round themselves with the faded remnants of a glory 
that is departed. They recall the time when their souls 



1/4 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

were filled with elevated thoughts, with noble aspira- 
tions, with high purposes, and tuneful joys. Christians 
there are, who revert continually to a period in their 
lives when their hearts were like harps, breathed on 
from morning till evening by the airs of heaven, when 
like a lark, the soul daily winged her ecstatic flights to 
the gates of the Celestial City and beheld visions of the 
glory which cannot be uttered, when the heart sur- 
charged with gladness, found frequent and sweet relief 
in tears, when the exercises of religion were performed 
with rapturous joy. It is so no longer, but they take 
comfort in the thought that it was so once. Indeed it 
seems to be almost enough in their estimation that once 
they had such glorious experiences, such high resolves 
and such spiritual prosperity. They say: that is my 
true self; that is my real self; not this which you see 
now. They seek to forestall any criticism of what they 
are now, by pointing us to what they long ago were. 
Although they have fallen below that old self, they are 
always presenting it as the true image of themselves. 
If they are reminded of their present imperfections they 
look to their past excellencies, and they are satisfied. 
If the deficiencies of the life they now lead are pre- 
sented to them, they point us to the position which 
they occupied of old, as much as to say "If you wish 
to judge us take us at our best, not our poorest!" 
When in reality, in judging others, that which they 
were is of no special importance except as an aid in 
determining that which they are ; and the fact that one 
has been better than he is now only adds to his shame, 
that instead of being better, he is not so good as he was. 
The case would be a trifle better if they took that past 
ideal, that better self which has been, and set it up as a 
standard, striving once more to reach that point, It 
would be indeed but a poor ideal ; but it would be better 



SERMONS. 175 

than nothing, it would be better than remaining satisfied 
where they are. It is not trying to get very high, to be 
sure, to be trying to get up where one has been before, 
but even that were better than lying down in indolence, 
and saying: "I was yonder once!" But now because 
these persons have once attained a certain altitude it 
seems to be a matter of indifference to them afterward 
how far below it they fall. Brethren ! if a man's life 
were what it ought to be there would be no such thing 
in it as a fall. There would be no stepping down from 
a higher to a lower seat. Whatever may be the ex- 
ternal changes and depressions of a good man's life, his 
inner life, his true life, is one of constant elevation. It 
is ever on the ascendant. George Washington was a 
greater man and a better man the first day of his re- 
tirement from the Presidency, than the day he was 
inaugurated. The man who has not yet learned how 
to make every step an upward step has not yet learned 
how to live. How to become holier both by prosperity 
and by adversity, how to be made stronger both by 
labor and by rest, more patient both by gratification 
and by disappointment, more resigned both through 
losses and through gains, how to be made more heav- 
enly minded both by business and by devotion, calmer 
both through excitement and through rest, wiser both 
by error and by truth, better acquainted with self both 
in solitude and in a crowd, more Christlike both by 
trial and by joy, how to make each day, each week, 
each month, each year, a stepping stone to the next — 
this is what we need to know, and this is what the 
love of Christ alone can teach us, even as it taught 
Paul. 

Whatever then may be the self, which confronts us, 
as we face the past year, it is one which we are to 
leave behind and go beyond. Whatever the year has 



1/6 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

brought us which we can carry along, which we can 
build up into the better self of another year, if it be 
God's will that we should enjoy another year, let us 
thank God for it and take it with us. Those precious 
tokens of a Father's love, those sweet assurances of a 
Saviour's sympathy, those delightful witnesses of the 
Spirit's friendship, those bright foregleams of immor- 
tality, those delicious foretastes of heaven, those les- 
sons of human weakness and Divine strength, of the 
all-sufficiency of God's grace, of the certainty of our 
Father's promises, of the security of the Christian's 
hope, of the blessedness of faith and love, these lessons, 
learned by chastisement, by suffering, by trial, by en- 
durance, by patience, by trust, by joyful labor, let 
us treasure them up for future use, for future growth. 
Has the year brought you much of suffering? Carry 
away from it much humility. Has it brought you 
many trials ? Let it leave you so much purer. Has it 
taken away much in which you rejoiced? Let it leave 
you richer in love. Flas it brought you disappoint- 
ments? Let it leave you richer in faith. Has it 
brought you joys and crowns of your labor? Let it 
leave you more full of zeal and energy in the service 
of your Master. Was there much in it which you 
could not and can not yet understand? Leave that 
with God. Was there much in it which it grieves you 
to think of? Lay that also at the feet of Jesus. Alas, 
for those errors, and follies, and sins! Would that 
they were not there ! But in the future lies the great 
bulk of your life. God be praised, the Past is barely 
the beginning. Oh, for help to make the Future purer 
than the Past, to make each year whiter, sweeter, di- 
viner, than that which went before it. 



VIII. 

THE DISCIPLES' AMBITION. 

Matthew 20 : 17-28. "And Jesus going up to Jerusalem took the twelve disciples 
apart en the way, and said unto them, 

Behold we go up to Jerusalem, and the son of man shall be betrayed unto the 
chief priests and unto the scribes and they shall condemn him to death, 

And shall deliver him to the Gentiles to mock, and to scourge, and to crucify him : 
and the third day he shall rise again. 

Then came to him the mother of Zebedee's children with her sons, worshipping 
him, and desiring a certain thing of him. 

And he said unto her, What wilt thou ? She saith unto him, Grant that these my 
two sons may sit, the one on thy right hand, and the other on the left, in thy king- 
dom. 

But Jesus answered and said, Ye know not what ye ask. Are ye able to drink of 
the cup that I shall drink of, and to be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized 
with ? They say unto him, We are able. 

And he saith unto them, Ye shall drink indeed of my cup, and be baptized with 
the baptism that I am baptized with ; but to sit on my right hand and on my left is 
not mine to give, but it shall be given to them for whom it is prepared of my Father. 

And when the ten heard it, they were moved with indignation against the two 
brethren. 

_ But Jesus called them unto him, and said, ye know that the princes of the Gen- 
tiles exercise dominion over them, and they that are great exercise authority upon 
them. 

But it shall not be so among you ; but whosoever will be great among you, let 
him be your minister ; 

And whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant ; 

Even as the son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister and to 
give his life a ransom for many." 

(< And Jesus going up to Jerusalem." How simply 
the fact is told, and yet it is one of no ordinary signifi- 
cance. Not that there is anything peculiar in his going 
to Jerusalem ; for one of the great feasts of the nation 
is approaching, and Jerusalem is now the centre 
towards which thousands of Jews in Palestine, and out 
of it, are drawing. 

Neither is this the first time that Jesus and his disci- 
ples have formed a part of that mighty throng v/hich 
is wont to stream annually to the National Metropolis 
to celebrate the Passover. And yet of all high feasts 

(i77) 



173 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

ever held since the first memorable Passover in Egypt, 
never was one like that to which Jesus is now going. 
Of all the companies on their way to it, not one of such 
interest to us as this little company of which it is said: 
"And Jesus going up to Jerusalem took the twelve 
disciples apart on the way, and said unto them : Be- 
hold, we go up to Jerusalem." Let us now seek to 
enter as much as we may into the spirit of the scene 
described in the text ; and whereas no circumstance can 
be understood alone, apart from its relations, it will be 
necessary for us to study this scene in connection with 
those antecedent circumstances of which it is the his- 
torical off-shoot, and to this end let me remind you of 
a few facts respecting these men, with which you are 
already familiar. 

Let us remember in the first place that they were Jews, 
and as such shared in the national views respecting the 
Messiah as a temporal king. They were not, however, 
ordinary Jews. They were deep, earnest, spiritual men, 
Israelites indeed, in whom was no guile. As such they 
believed that the Messiah was to be something more 
than a mere secular prince, that his kingdom was to be 
a kingdom of righteousness and truth. Moreover they 
had Joand the Messiah, and at his call they had left all 
and followed him, a fact which it will be well for us to 
bear in mind, as proving that they were not actuated 
by mere selfishness in following Christ. Again they 
had the right to regard themselves as the especial 
friends and followers of the Messiah. Nations like 
individuals have their ideals and hopes, and some of 
these have been very remarkable ; but of all national 
ideas ever formed, of all national hopes ever cher- 
ished, the Jewish belief in a Messiah is beyond 
question the most remarkable. Whether we consider 
the character of the ideal itself, or the poetic beauty 



SERMONS. 179 

and prophetic grandeur thrown around it, or the tenacity 
with which the nation clung to it through centuries of 
frequent and overwhelming changes, it stands unique in 
the history of the world. At length the nation is agi- 
tated with the hope that the long wished for time has 
come, and that the long expected Messiah is about to 
appear. Old prophecies are looked at and seem to 
grow luminous, like the magic talismans of fable, which 
blazed with a strange light when aught great was about 
to happen. Presentiments and rumors are ripe. To 
an aged man at Jerusalem it is revealed that he shall 
not see death before he has seen the Lord, his Christ. 
A voice is heard in the wilderness: "Repent ye, for 
the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Jerusalem and all 
Judea go out to him ; Priests and Scribes are sent from 
Jerusalem to ask him, "Who art thou?" He know- 
ing whom they had come to seek, answers, "I am not 
the Christ." 

Ere long certain Galilean fishermen are heard saying 
the one to the other: "We have found the Christ." 
We have found him of whom Moses in the law and 
the prophets did write. Joyful discovery ! No wonder 
that they leave all and follow him. And now for three 
years have they followed him: — years of poverty, ex- 
posure, and contumely. Yet, still, they cling to that 
homeless wanderer. Still their faith in him is unshaken, 
nay, is stronger now than ever. It is our fashion some- 
times to depreciate the spirituality of the simple-hearted 
men during this time. We, with the light of Nineteen 
Centuries reflected on those three years — we, with the 
Commentary of Inspiration, and with the Consciousness 
of the entire Christian Church, on the facts and say- 
ings which transpired therein, shake our own wise 
heads at the lowness and grossness of those men's con- 
ceptions of those facts and sayings. We, living in an 



l8o LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

age whose spiritualities are only refined forms of mate- 
rialism, whose truth is a part of its stock-in-trade, and 
whose religion is a part of its stock-jobbing — we 
smile pitifully when we think or speak of v/hat we call 
the carnal, grovelling views of these Jewish fishermen, 
who had forsaken all they had on earth, to cling to the 
great desire of their Nation, coming to them in the person 
of a carpenter's son. It will be time enough, however, 
for us to scorn, or even to pity these men when we 
exhibit the same unworldliness, the same self-denial, 
the same faith in an unseen ideal, and the same self- 
sacrifice in behalf of it. True, they were Jews ; true, 
they shared the national views of the Messiah, 
They anticipated a visible King on a visible throne, 
who should, in their own words, ' ' restore again the 
Kingdom to Israel." But even the common Jew knew 
that this was not all. Again and again he had read in 
the Book of the Law, or heard in the Synagogue, that 
the coming of the Messiah should be like rain upon 
the mown grass, as showers that water the earth ; that 
truth should spring out of the earth, and righteousness 
look down from heaven ; and that the earth should be 
full of the knowledge of the Lord, as waters cover the 
sea. Even in the ordinary Jewish conception, there- 
fore, the visible sceptre which the Messiah was to 
wield, was the emblem of a spiritual authority over 
the hearts of men. But these disciples of Jesus were 
not ordinary Jews. They belonged to that deep, earn- 
est, spiritual order, to be found among every people, 
who, without rank, influence, or learning, it may be, 
yet always live in full view of the realities and glories 
of the spiritual world, who watch with longing eye the 
morning star and the day spring from on high, and 
listen with reverential ear to the Divine Message, 
whether spoken by the lips of mitred priests, or by 



SERMONS. l8l 

the voice of one crying in the wilderness. Accord- 
ingly we find that some of the men had been drawn 
by a powerful attraction to the stern, earnest, and 
spiritual Baptist Prophet of Judea, and had attached 
themselves to him as disciples ; and when on a certain 
day, One came by of whom their Master said: "Be- 
hold the Lamb of God ! " they at once followed the 
stranger. Of another, Jesus said, when he first saw 
him: " Behold an Israelite, indeed, in whom is no 
guile." (And there is certainly enough in the sincere, 
trustful unselfishness with which they abandoned every- 
thing at the call of the Divine Man of Nazareth, to 
dispose at once of this charge of want of spirituality, 
which is so superficially and flippantly brought against 
them.) Furthermore, they had now for no small length 
of time enjoyed the company and teachings of their 
Master. Some of them had even attained views of the 
truth, concerning which he had said that ' ' flesh and 
blood had not revealed those things, but his Father in 
heaven." Nay, verily! imperfect, wavering, and con- 
fused, as their views certainly were, material, gross and 
selfish they certainly could not have been. It is abso- 
lutely necessary that we should judge these men aright 
before we can understand their feelings and conduct, 
and the sublime wisdom and tenderness exhibited by 
Christ on the occasion which we are now about to 
consider. And now as they are going up to Jerusalem, 
let us seek to discover their feelings, and put ourselves 
as much as we may in sympathy with them; for without 
some sympathy, no man can ever understand or appre- 
ciate another. Remembering, then, that they were 
Jews, let us first try to realize what is implied in that 
fact, to-wit : that they belonged to the East, and shared 
in the Oriental passion for grandeur, and reverence for 
external signs of greatness; and yet withal had much 



1 82 ■ LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

of the practicalness of the West, which requires some- 
thing more than symbol and form. As Jews, more- 
over, they doubtless regarded Mount Zion as the seat 
of Messiah's throne, and Jerusalem as the radiating 
center of the glory which was to flood the earth. 
Let us remember that they were now journeying to 
Jerusalem in company, (as they fully believed) with the 
' Messiah himself, whose especial friends and followers 
they were. As such they could not but expect to be 
particularly honored in the general exaltation of their 
Nation. It was not in human nature to think other- 
wise, even if nothing had been said about it. But 
Christ himself from time to time threw out intimations 
which tended to encourage such expectations. 

Thus it was but a few days before the present occur- 
rence that one of them had asked the Master, saying: 
" Behold we have forsaken all and followed thee: What 
shall we have therefor?" And " Jesus said unto them, 
verily, I say unto you, that ye, which have followed 
me, in the regeneration, when the Son of Man shall sit 
in the throne of his glory, ye also shall sit upon twelve 
thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel." Because 
now we, standing where we do, know what Christ 
meant better than those simple-hearted Jews could have 
known, because we know that the regeneration and 
throne of which he spoke, as they were more purely 
spiritual, so also were more glorious than those which 
they imagined — shall we wonder, if to them, visions 
of present and earthly greatness mingled with the views 
of spiritual elevation and power, which Christ promised ? 
But further : we learn elsewhere that the disciples were 
at this time full of the belief that the time had now come 
for Christ's Kingdom to be established. Luke in speaking 
of this journey says, "They thought that the kingdom 
of God should immediately appear." How this expecta- 



SERMONS. I83 

tion was produced we are not told. It may have been 
one of those indefinable presentiments which sometimes 
visit the soul as harbingers of some great approaching 
Providence, and which, to the disciples flushed with 
exultation and joy, would naturally assume the form 
and hue of their own hopes. Or it may have been 
impressed on them by the manner and language of 
Christ as the Last Hour drew near — to him the Hour 
of the Power of Darkness, to them the Hour of his 
Coronation and Universal Kingship. They journeyed on, 
therefore, in eager joy, like a traveler approaching his 
journey's end, who knows that the next turn of the 
road will bring him into full view of his home. But, 
as sometimes a great joy brings with it a great Fear, as 
the traveler's heart sinks suddenly within him, if, as he 
draws near his home, a wail of grief be borne upon his 
ears, so we find that on this occasion a nameless dread 
fell on the Twelve. Mark says: "And they were in 
the way going to Jerusalem, and Jesus went before 
them ; and they were amazed ; and as they followed 
they were afraid." Observe the particulars. Full of the 
joy and exultation with which the recent promises and 
declarations of Christ had filled their souls, and hav- 
ing their Divine Leader in the midst of them, "they 
were in the way going up to Jerusalem ; when lo ! 
their Lord withdrew himself from them and went on 
alone. The dread Hour of his Loneliness was drawing 
nigh. Behold, the hour cometh, yea, is now come, 
that ye shall be scattered every man to his own, and 
shall leave me alone ! Alone is he to tread the wine- 
press : Alone to face the Powers of Darkness : Alo?ie 
to bear the world's sin : Alone to enter the Holiest 
Place to appear before God for man. And now as the 
shadow of that great and lonely sorrow falls on his 
spirit, what can he do but retire from those childlike 



1 84 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

men, flushed as they are with a blind joy, and occupied 
as each is with his own little dream of greatness. But 
observe that in withdrawing from them he does not lag 
behind, nor turn aside. "Jesus went before them." 
No shrinking, no faltering; firmly, resolutely, he leads 
the way. But now that mysterious and silent solitari- 
ness fixes their attention and troubles their souls. 
"They are amazed;" that loneliness, that silence, that 
eager resolution — what can it all mean? At first 
amazed, their astonishment soon deepens into fear. 
" As they follow they are afraid." They too begin to 
enter the shadow, and trembling possesses them. Then 
the Master, knowing by Divine Sympathy their state, 
and that now they are better prepared to hear the sad 
truth of which it is so necessary to remind them, min- 
gles with them once more and begins to address them, 
saying, "Behold, we go up to Jerusalem." Observe 
how he has come forth out of that " lofty solitariness " 
in which he was just now enshrouded, and makes him- 
self one of them. " We go up to Jerusalem." There 
for the third time recorded, he tells them what is about 
to befall himself. "The Son of Man shall be betrayed 
unto the chief priests and unto the scribes, and they 
shall condemn him to death, and shall deliver him to 
the Gentiles to mock and to scourge and to crucify; 
and the third day he shall rise again." How full, perfect 
and distinct his knowledge of all that was to befall him, 
of each particular suffering, anguish and shame. And 
this was what he had just been contemplating; it was 
to meet this that he went forth so calmly and courage- 
ously! "But they," says Luke, "understood none of 
these things, and this saying was hid from them. Neither 
knew they the things which were spoken." Do we won- 
der at their blindness, their want of understanding? 
True, they were not blameless. The saying, dark and 



SERMONS. 185 

troublous as it was, should not have been hid altogether 
from them! Still let us make all just allowances. Let 
us remember how difficult it was for a Jew to reconcile 
such degradation, suffering and shame, with the exalta- 
tion, power and glory of the Messiah. Let us remem- 
ber again that this was not the first time that they had 
heard such words ; and this fact, although, regarded from 
one point of view, it might seem to aggravate their 
blameworthiness, yet looked at from another, it would 
seem to lessen it. For since those previous occasions 
on which these strange words had been uttered, had 
they not daily heard the " Kingdom of heaven" spoken 
of, and had not Christ so lately foretold a regeneration 
in which they should sit on twelve thrones, besides 
promising that they should receive a hundredfold in 
this life for their devotion and self-sacrifice in his serv- 
ice ? Let us remember, moreover, what strong and sud- 
den transitions their feelings had just undergone. 

In rapid succession Hope, Astonishment, and Fear 
had filled, oppressed, and shaken their souls. They 
were still trembling from the latter when those forebod- 
ing words fell on their ears. What more natural in such 
a state of mental prostration than that they should be 
stunned, overwhelmed on the one hand by what was 
dark, mysterious and alarming in those words, and 
blindly catch on the other at whatever might afford en- 
couragement and hope. And what of promise might 
not be contained in those closing words — c ' the third day 
he shall rise again." To minds so suddenly brought 
down from a state of joyous hope to one of bodeful, 
dimly understood fear, one such hope-breathing word 
would as suddenly remove the load which weighed them 
down, and cause their minds at once to spring back to 
their original level of joyous and eager expectation. 
Now it is at just such a moment of trembling hope, of 



1 86 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

bewildered expectancy, of shaken conviction striving to 
reassure and to intensify itself, that the mind in its anx- 
iety to test the security of its hold upon the future, puts 
forth its most secret desires, and seeks to embody them 
in something tangible, something at hand. When the 
soul is just recovering from the sudden shock of some 
momentary doubt, its most secret hopes will escape 
from it unawares, and the lingering shadow of the doubt, 
the bewildered eagerness of the soul not yet fully un- 
derstanding itself, nor fully master of its desires, prompts 
a reaching forth to the hoped for good, not so much to 
grasp it as yet, as to make sure that it is not an airy 
dream, but a reality. Such was the disciples' state of 
mind at this time, manifesting itself, however, in one 
form in two of the disciples, and in another among the 
remaining ten. The feeling, however, was essentially the 
same in all. 

We begin with the first form of its manifestation. 
Then came to him the mother of Zebedee's children 
with her two sons, worshiping him, and desiring a cer- 
tain thing of him, and he said unto her, "What wilt 
thou ! " She saith unto him, "Grant that these my two 
sons may sit, the one on thy right hand, and the other 
on the left, in thy kingdom." Although Salome, the 
mother, is represented as the speaker, and although un- 
doubtedly her maternal pri4e and love would engage 
her interest in behalf of her sons, still it is evident from 
the reply of Jesus, and the conduct of the other disci- 
ples, that we are to identify John and James with their 
mother in the request: and in Mark's account of the 
scene, the mother is not mentioned at all. We inquire 
therefore, how came this request to be made by these 
two disciples? 

In accordance with the theory of the case already 
suggested, this request was an impulsive expression of 



SERMONS. 1 87 

the form which their hopes and desires in respect to 
the future had taken in their own minds. To sit on 
the right hand and on the left of Christ in his kingdom 
was to occupy the highest positions both of honor and 
of trust. 

This then was the secret ambition of these two men: 
to be nearest to Christ in official rank, and also in per- 
sonal confidence, and now in their peculiar state of 
mind, they by an irresistible impulse betrayed it. But 
next the question arises why did these two, James and 
John, in particular entertain and express this ambition ? 
And here you will observe that the question concerns 
principally the expression of the wish, for as we shall see 
presently the wish itself was not peculiar to them. 
Leaving then out of consideration the doubtful supposi- 
tion of some that Salome was the sister of Joseph, the 
reputed father of Jesus, we find one ground of the am- 
bition of these men in their character. It is abundantly 
evident that James and John were both ardent, impul- 
sive, large-hearted, whole-souled men. They gave very 
decisive evidence of this, just about this time. Luke 
relates that during; this same journey he sent messengers 
"before his face into a village of the Samaritans to 
make ready for him. And they did not receive him, 
because his face was as though he would go to Jernsa- 
lem." And when James and John saw this, they said 
with characteristic impetuosity, "Lord, wilt thou that 
we command fire to come down from heaven and con- 
sume them as Elias did?" Again it is said that Christ 
surnamed John and James Boanerges, which is, Sons 
of thunder: in allusion most likely to their character. 
And this same ardency of temperament will perhaps 
serve to account for the fact that one of them, James, 
was the first of all the Apostles to suffer martyrdom, 
and that the other, John, was the bosom-friend of Jesus. 



1 88 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

Such characters were not the men to do things by- 
halves, especially when, being brothers, each would 
naturally know and encourage the aspirations of the 
other. Their ambition would reach up to the highest 
pitch attainable. And the same impetuosity of Spirit 
will account for their being the first to express their am- 
bitious wish. They were too impulsive as well as too 
honest to go about wearing a look of hypocritical hu- 
mility, and making a false impression of a modesty 
which they did not feel. They wanted to be first, and 
they said so. 

It would seem at ' first as though such a demonstra- 
tion would be made by the impetuous Peter before all 
the others. But on examination it will be found, I 
think, that the impetuosity of Peter was that of will; 
the impetuosity of John and James that of feeling. 
The former would rush to the breach when something 
was to be done; the latter would be so carried away by 
their emotions as not to know what to do. Peter did 
not stop to ask Christ about the servant of Malchus, 
' ' Lord, wilt thou that I take my sword out of my scab- 
bard and cut off this man's ear?" He did it. And, 
therefore it is, that on this occasion, when the disciples' 
feelings were moved without any cause for immediate 
action, John and James were the spokesmen rather 
than Peter. 

Another ground of their ambition may be found in 
the fact that they were evidently favored disciples. 

One of these, we have seen, was Christ's bosom friend, 
who was wont to recline next to him at the table, and 
who speaks of himself as the disciple whom Jesus 
loved. They, with Peter, were the sole witnesses of the 
transfiguration, and also of the resurrection of the 
daughter of Jairus, besides which we find various other 
indications of favor. Once more, their mother was 



SERMONS. I89 

with them, who had herself followed Christ when he 
was in Galilee, and ministered unto him, and who 
might perhaps consider that this fact would give weight 
to her petitions in behalf of her sons. At all events 
she formed the bond between the brothers on this occa- 
sion, and was their medium of approach to Christ; and 
the fact of their having such a medium must be taken 
into account as one of the probable occasions of their 
making the request. 

But -let us now turn our attention to the expression 
which the common feeling of the disciples took in the 
remaining ten. ' ' When the ten heard it, they were 
moved with indignation against the two brethren." Of 
course ! How dared they express for themselves the 
secret ambition of each one of the rest ? For we 
know that each one did covet the highest position for 
himself, since again and again they disputed among 
themselves who should be the greatest, and the reply 
of Christ shows that this was the predominant passion 
at this time. And now when two of their number had 
the audacity to try to snatch the prize from all the 
others, how could they help feeling aggrieved, yea, 
more, indignant ? And in all probability their indigna- 
tion assumed an extremely self-complacent form. Such 
is the inconsistency of poor human nature, that they 
flattered themselves, no doubt, that they were glowing 
with a highly virtuous indignation against the insuffer- 
able pride and selfishness of the sons of Zebedee for 
daring to anticipate themselves. 

Having thus endeavored to get an idea of the posi- 
tion of the disciples, and the state of their feelings, 
there remains to consider the replies of Christ, first — to 
the brothers, then — to the ten. And here we cannot 
help noticing the great gentleness and tenderness of his 
reply to James and John. " Ye know not what ye ask," 



I gO LLEWELYN' IOAN EVANS. 

spoken, as I conceive, not sharply, reproachfully, but 
mildly, compassionately, lovingly, as though he should 
say : ' ' What ye desire, my beloved, is indeed the high- 
est and worthiest object which man can seek, and I can 
but honor and love even this blind reaching forth of 
yours toward it. Would, however, that you fully 
understood yourselves, and knew what you ask for ! " 

Do we understand this gentleness of Jesus? Cer- 
tainly not in the full depth and beauty of it, but some 
of its features we perhaps may see. Do we not, for 
instance, see something here of that love of honesty a?td 
downright sincerity , which so eminently characterized 
Jesus ? Did he not see in the outspoken frankness of 
these men, so free from all false affectation of humility, 
something noble and manly? Again, did he not rec- 
ognize in this frank request of theirs a feeling of strong 
personal attachment to himself '? Can the mother chide 
harshly her own child whose greatest fault is that it 
loves her too well to bear to be away from her ? And 
is it likely that Christ would be very severe on those 
whose highest blessedness it was to be nearest their 
Lord, whom to be with and to love forever is heaven ? 
And above all, do we not see here a little of that 
mystery of divine sympathy in Christ by which he 
clothes man in his own righteousness ; by which he 
looks upon our imperfect prayers, and wishes, and 
efforts in the light of what in them is from himself; 
translates our stammering words into the language of 
his own Divine heart; surrounds our fluttering aspira- 
tions with the atmosphere of his own love, and lifts 
them to heaven ; bathes our souls in the radiance of 
his own infinite beauty ; idealizes our characters into 
his own perfect image, which they now so faintly 
reflect ; and regards us, not as we are now in ourselves, 
but as we shall be when that which is earthly is put 



SERMONS. IQI 

off, and we are clothed upon by that which is heavenly, 
having fully put on the Lord Jesus Christ. 

Thus, therefore, instead of reproving the pride of the 
disciples, as some of us might have done, he seems to 
regard their request as springing from the germ, at least, 
of a ?whle aspiration ; instead of blaming them for what 
was earthly and materialistic in their views, he seems 
to sympathize with the difficulty which they met in 
having perfectly just views f of the matter, and looking at 
them in loving admiration, to feel : What truthfulness ! 
What affection ! What lofty-mindedness ! What de- 
voted zeal! Thus, as it were, idealizing the spark of 
love which now flickers so dimly and uncertainly, and 
amid so much impure smoke, into that pure flame of 
heroic self-sacrifice which burned so brightly in the 
martyrdom of James, and in the life-long endurance 
and love of John. 

In no other way does it appear to me can we under- 
stand the reply of Christ, and it seems to be from a 
failure properly to appreciate this Divine Sympathy of 
the Redeemer that so many commentators have either 
attempted to put a harsher construction on the reply of 
Christ than his words and the spirit of the scene can 
possibly justify; or else have expressed their undisguised 
astonishment at the exceeding gentleness of his manner 
towards them. I do not deny that there might have 
been a tender sadness in his tone ; and that the mourn- 
ful compassionateness of his look and voice ought to 
have caused some misgivings in their minds about the 
character or form of their petition, when the Master 
said : " Ye know not what ye ask. Are ye able to drink 
of the cup that I shall drink of, and to be baptized with 
the baptism that I am baptized with ?" But they were 
too eagerly intent on securing their desire to heed the 
significance of Christ's manner, or to feel the great dis- 



192 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS, 

proportionateness between, that which they coveted, and 
that which Christ held out to them, and so they answer 
unhesitatingly, " We are able." How truly had Jesus 
said : " Ye know not what ye ask. " 

But how did they understand this question of Christ ? 
We know that the cup of which Christ was to drink was 
the cup of suffering, and that the baptism wherewith he 
was to be baptized was the baptism of blood. Did they 
thus understand him ? Or did they suppose, as some 
affirm, that he spoke of drinking of the royal cup, and 
washing their hands in the royal ewer — marks of the 
highest distinction and honor ? There can be but little 
doubt that they understood the words in their true sense, 
though not in their full meaning, as is apparent from 
the subsequent words of Christ, as well as their own re- 
ply. And besides the question was put in such a form 
that they could not easily misunderstand it. 

The very first word of the question implied something 
else than a mark of favor: " Are ye able V y Implying 
that what he was about to propose required effort, 
strength, resolution. And their reply shows that they 
thus understood it: " We are able." Admitting now 
that they knew not well what they said, granting that 
they knew not the bitterness of the cup, nor the ter- 
rors of the baptism, and, that perhaps they erroneously 
supposed the suffering of Christ held out before them 
to be but a brief transition to the glory of his reign, is 
there not, after all, enough left for us to admire in their 
self-sacrificing devotion to Christ, and in their lofty con- 
fidence in his power both to triumph himself, and to 
help them to triumph in the approaching struggle, and 
to end by reigning over all? Such, at least, seems to 
have been the view which Christ took of their reply. 
He recognizes the earnestness of their self-consecration 
and the sincerity of their purpose ; he even tenderly 



SERMONS. 193 

foreshadows to them the fact that the hour is coming 
when they shall drink of his cup and share his bap- 
tism. He does not deny that there are degrees of 
honor in his kingdom, and positions of power and inti- 
macy with himself to which his followers may lawfully 
aspire ; nor does he intimate, as many think, that they 
might not attain to such positions ; he, however, tells 
them mildly yet firmly, that their wish could not be 
obtained as a gift instantaneously bestowed upon them, 
but must be reached throuph a preparatory course of dis- 
cipline, by the Father. " And he saith unto them, ye 
shall drink indeed of my cup, and be baptized with the 
baptism that I am baptized with ; but to sit on my 
right hand and on my left, it is not mine to give, ex- 
cept to those for whom it is prepared of my Father." 
Our version which reads, ' ' it is not mine to give, but it shall 
be given to them for whom it is prepared," impairs the 
force of the passage : first, by taking away the granting 
of the gift from Christ ; next, by failing to bring out 
properly the antithesis between giving and preparing ; 
the former expressing the instantaneous bestowment of 
the honor, the latter the disciplinary process through 
which it is reached — "It is not mine to give, except to 
those for whom it is prepared by my Father." 

The whole reply accordingly implies a recognition of 
the legitimacy of a pure and lofty Christian aspira- 
tion : — a loving appreciation of the real earnestness of 
these two disciples : — a gentle intimation of the future 
trial and triumph of their faith : — and the distinct an- 
nouncement of discipline as the law of advancement in 
the Kingdom Of Christ. Such, then, was the character 
of this interview between Christ and Salome, with her 
two sons, forming at the time a little group by them- 
selves. Meanwhile, the Ten who were probably near 
enough to. witness the whole interview, were, as we 



194 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

have already seen, excited by deep indignation against 
the selfishness and presumption of their two compan- 
ions who had so rashly and unexpectedly dared to step 
between themselves and the prize. Jesus seeing this, 
called them unto him, and said: "Ye know that the 
princes of the Gentiles exercise dominion over them, 
and they that are great exercise authority upon them. 
Not so shall it be among you, but whosoever will be 
great among you, let him be your minister, and who- 
soever will be chief among you, let him be your servant ; 
even as the Son of man came not to be ministered 
unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for 
many." 

Here let me ask : Does it not strike you that there 
is a difference between the conduct of Christ toward 
the Ten, and his conduct toward the two Brothers? 
Do you not detect a new element in his language? 
True, there is tenderness, sympathy, love, as before, 
and as always in Christ's words ; but does not this 
seem tempered with a degree of decisiveness, almost 
sternness, even? Compare the compassionate tender- 
ness of his remarks to the brothers: "Ye know not 
what ye ask," with his abrupt and pointed reference to 
the ambition of the world and its rulers, in his first re- 
marks to the Ten: "Ye know that the princes of the 
Gentiles exercise dominion over them." Compare 
again his mild questioning of the former: "Are ye 
able to drink of the cup that I shall drink of," with 
the strong decisive "Not so" addressed to the latter: 
"Not so shall it be among you." 

Why, now, this mildness in the one case, and this 
comparative peremptoriness in the other ? Does it not 
seem to be founded on the difference of disposition 
which we have already noticed ? Was it not because 
there was more honesty and sincerity in the former case 



SERMONS. 195 

than in the latter? I do not say, observe, that originally 
the feelings and motives of James and John were any 
more pure and sincere than those of Peter, Andrew, 
Philip, and the rest. They were all alike, simple, un- 
sophisticated Jews, who had found the Messiah; who 
had abandoned all to follow him ; who had very good 
reason for believing that they should share the glory of 
his coming Kingship ; who entertained a fond desire to 
be nearest to their Lord in his and their exaltation — a 
desire which was certainly very natural, and in some of 
its features a very amiable one ; not altogether sinful 
therefore, although at times it assumed, we must say, 
a decidedly selfish form. And at this particular junc- 
ture, as we have seen, this desire with all its concom- 
itant feelings, had been quickened and stimulated to an 
extraordinary pitch of excitement, which impelled it to 
demonstrations much stronger and more marked than 
was usual, hi its simple form, therefore, this feeling 
was not sincerer or purer in the case of James and John 
than in the case of the others. But everything depends 
on the use which a man makes of his feelings, on the 
practical issue which he gives to them. John and James 
made an honest use of their feelings. They went straight 
to Jesus, and told him their most secret thought. We 
have seen how Jesus received them. The others were 
not so honest. Each one nourished his ambition within 
himself, and brooded over it in the recesses of his own 
heart, the tendency of which is always evil, as in this 
case. For no sooner did the other two disciples tread 
on it, than like a viper coiled up in the long grass, it 
sprung up fiercely, breathing selfish jealousy and envi- 
ous indignation. Then Christ holds up the mirror be- 
fore it that it may see itself in all its ugliness. "Ye 
know that the princes of the Gentiles exercise dominion 
over them, and they that are great exercise authority 



I96 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

upon them." There in the pride and selfishness of the 
princes of the Gentiles, Christ holds up before them 
the image, or at least the legitimate development of 
their own. 

It is, perhaps, impossible for us to understand the 
meaning which these words then spoken, had for a Jew. 
Rome was then in the zenith of her glory. Roman 
Rule — Roman Law— Roman Right — Roman Vengeance 
were everywhere. Rome was the world; the world 
was Rome. 

And never was Power, Authority, the State, any- 
thing like what it was in the Roman Empire. It was 
all in all. The State was everything: the individual 
nothing. Soon after the time of our Saviour this idea 
attained at the same time its consummation and its fall in 
the deification of the Emperor. But nowhere was this 
power felt more crushingly and at the same time more 
rebelliously than in Palestine. There the yoke of the 
stranger was on God's own people. There the false 
gods of the heathen had invaded the chosen precincts 
of the only true and living God. There the Roman 
Emperor was a usurper of the throne of Jehovah. Thus 
to a Jew, state domination — earthly rule, was synony- 
mous not only with oppression, extortion and rapine, 
but also with blasphemy and sacrilege. Such was the 
image of selfish and worldly ambition which Christ now 
held up to his disciples. They had dreamed and talked 
of a Kingdom of Heaven — of a New Jerusalem: they 
looked in the mirror, and behold ! to their shame and 
dismay, it was Rome. And now in contrast to Rome, 
Christ exhibits to them his own Kingdom. "Not so 
shall it be among you : but whosoever will be great 
among you, let him be your minister, and whosoever 
will be chief among you, let him be your servant." 
No, my Beloved ! the New Jerusalem is not Rome. In 



SERMONS. 



I 9 7 



my Kingdom, to be great is to be humble : — to be first 
is, not to be served, but to serve : — to be chief is, not 
to sit on a throne, but to bend down to wash the feet 
of the humblest disciple : to be a King is, not to wear 
a crown, but to carry a cross: — to have power is to do 
good: — to live is to die, and to die daily. "Even as 
the Son of Man," the Highest, the first of all— the King 
of Heaven and Earth — "came not to be ministered unto, 
but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many." 
And thus he leads them once more into the shadow of 
the great coming Sorrow : and there we shall now leave 
them, sadder, and let us hope, wiser men. 

It has been the aim of this Discourse not to enlarge 
upon the great and important principles recognized and 
announced by Christ in the words of the text, but to 
enter a little into the spirit of the scene — to appreciate 
as far as possible the feelings and actions of the disci- 
ples — and to see and feel to some extent the wonderful 
and Divine Sympathy of Jesus : in the belief that the 
more we can understand of the history of Christ, the 
more we can penetrate the depth, beauty, and tender- 
ness of his character, the nearer we can come to that 
Infinite Heart of Love, which throbs in every look, 
word, and act of his the better, the stronger, the more 
Godlike shall we become. Let us now recall a few of 
the more prominent lessons here taught us. In James 
and John, we have seen the inestimable worth of truth, 
of manly sincerity. Very wise we cannot call them, at 
least on this occasion. Indeed it was very foolish of 
them to encounter the prejudices and hostility of the 
rest by such a course as they pursued. Such young 
men moreover: probably about the youngest members 
of the company. Truly we cannot say that they were 
over prudent, or considerate, or altogether as modest 
as was becoming. But they were downright honest; 



I98 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

they were sincere out and out. And they loved Christ, 
and wanted to be near him. And Christ knew this. 
He read their souls in their looks, and he could not 
help loving them. And how gently he treats them as 
a mother treats a child who is naughty from excess of 
fondness. He seems almost to overlook their faults ; al- 
most — not quite. He makes them feel guilty enough 
before he is through with them: but so delicately: by 
saying so little. A candid man needs but little to make 
him feel his faults. Now Jesus is the same yesterday 
and to-day; still he loves honesty, genuineness, sincer- 
ity. He loves to have his disciples come to him, and 
open their hearts before him. He loves to hear them 
ask all they want. No matter how poor the wish, 
nor how lame the language, nor how much you 
may be ashamed of it, take it to Christ, my brother, 
and he will accept it with such infinite grace from your 
hands, he will regard it with such favor, and in his 
smile it will look so beautiful, that you will hardly be 
able to recognize it for the poor worthless thing which 
you laid at his feet. And if while meaning well you 
do make any mistake, he will let you know it in such 
a way, and teach you better with such condescension 
and love, that you will almost feel tempted to be 
thankful that you fell into the mistake for the sake of 
the lesson. Trust Christ. He says, "It is I: be 
not afraid." Tell him all — He loves to be trusted, and 
he will reward your confidence. Keep your Heart- 
door open : Christ will walk in, and sup with you, and 
you with him. 

In the ten disciples we may learn how good men, by 
failing to be thoroughly honest with themselves, fall into 
sin. We can not help sympathizing largely with the 
Ten on this occasion. Each one had sacrificed his all 
no less than the sons of Zebedee: Christ's promises 



SERMONS. I99 

were his as much as any other's ; and it must have been 
extremely trying for a man like Peter, e. g. t so much 
older in years, and not wanting in self-respect either, 
as we very well know, to see such forwardness on the 
part of these youths. On the whole, it was certainly 
very hard to show much forbearance at such a time. 
But the trouble is they were not honest in the matter. 
They stood aside and murmured together, and worked 
themselves and each other into a state of righteous in- 
dignation against the pride of these young men, when 
they themselves were every whit as proud. They fretted 
away their jealousy in a factitious wrath against selfish- 
ness ; and clothed their own pride in a false humility. 
They were dishonest ; than which nothing is more op- 
posed to the spirit of Christ. He hates all pride ; but 
of all forms of it, he hates most, false humility. He 
hates all envy, but most of all when it cloaks itself in a 
lying zeal for holiness or truth. He hates all sin, but 
above all he abhors the hypocrisy which frowns in 
public on the sin with which it dallies in secret. Hu- 
mility, Propriety, Zeal, all are good ; but honesty is bet- 
ter. Be just to all ; but don't forget to deal fairly by 
yourself. It is very charitable to undertake to pick out 
the mote in your neighbor's eye, but you will do it 
much better when you have taken the beam out of 
your own. Brother! Be honest with yourself. It is 
the first condition of all sincerity. 

But let us turn away from these men, erring and im- 
perfect at best, to the Perfect, the Divine Jesus. As 
men, these were, indeed, the worthiest, the truest, on 
the whole, the best men which this earth of ours could 
then boast of. Yet how much that is unworthy, insin- 
cere, sinful even in them. How infinite the difference 
between them and Christ. How their meanness cowered 
in his presence ! How their insincerities shriveled to- 



200 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

gether in his glance ! How their selfishness shrunk at 
his words ! How their petty jealousies slunk away- 
abashed ! And yet, how, with all their faults, he loved 
them still ! How he bore with their weaknesses ! How 
he recognized whatever was noble, worthy and lovable ! 
How he encouraged every feeble aspiration, and led it 
heavenward, even "as an eagle stirreth up her nest, 
fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, 
taketh them and beareth them on her wings." How 
gently he admonishes them of error; taking it away 
from them and giving truth in its place, as a mother 
tenderly takes from her child a dangerous tool, by giv- 
ing it something which is both beautiful and safe. How 
he humbled himself down to them ; made himself one 
of them ; how in exhorting them to be humble, he 
humbled himself to all ; how when he called them to go, 
he led the way ; how, as they were to suffer, he suf- 
fered ; as they were to give their lives for one another, 
he gave his life for all. "As the Son of Man came 
not to be ministered unto, but to minister and to give 
his life a ransom for many." 

And, now, as by those words, Christ led his disciples 
into the shadow of the cross, let us go there also. 
"Behold the Lamb of God." See there the whole 
life of Christ, consummating itself in the one act of 
death. For the death of Christ, unlike any other 
death, was an act. "I lay down my life that I might 
take it again. No man taketh it from me. I lay it 
down of myself. " It was the last, the highest act of Per- 
fect Sympathy, of Divine Compassion, of Infinite Love. 
The same Sympathy — the same Compassion — the same 
Love — which not only on his last journey to Jerusalem, 
but in every act of his life had throbbed and thrilled, 
and glowed, and burned, now gathering itself together 
for one act of self-sacrifice, which was to express the 



SERMONS. 201 

Love of God forever ! Brother ! Take yourself to the 
cross ! Take all you have there. Take your greatness. 
How small it will appear ! Your honor, your talent, 
your influence, your fame — how insignificant and 
worthless ! 

Take your sins. How black they will look. Your 
pride — how unutterably mean ! Your envy — how con- 
temptible ! Your insincerity — how you will despise it! 
Your selfishness — how you will hate it. Take your 
virtues there. What poor things they will seem. Your 
love — how faint ! Your faith — how weak ! Your sin- 
cerity — how hollow ! Your devoutest prayers — how 
heartless ! Your most heavenly thoughts — how grovel- 
ing ! Your most beautiful actions — how deformed ! 
Will you dare to trust in these? Or will you not 
rather trust in that Divine Sympathy which gathers all 
up in itself and robes all in its own glory? Will you 
not rather trust in that Love, which there — on that 
Cross — is stronger than the agony of death — the rage 
of devils, and the hatred of the world, and expires, 
saying : ' ' Father, forgive them, they know not what 
they do!" 



IX. 

THE CHRISTIAN'S DEBT. 

Romans i : 14. " For I am debtor both to the Greeks and to the Barbarians ; both to 
the wise and to the unwise." 

Here speaks an honest man, if ever an honest man 
has lived in this world. First we have the honest con- 
fession of a debt, a debt which multitudes have owed 
no less than Paul, but which, not having his honesty, 
they have failed to acknowledge. Next, in the verse 
following, we have a proof of Paul's honest purpose to 
pay that debt. "So as much as in me is, I am ready 
to preach the gospel to you that are at Rome also." 
Because Paul is a debtor to the world, he is anxious 
to preach the gospel in Rome-, in Rome, we may sup- 
pose above any other place, because it is at the time 
of Paul's speaking, the mistress of the world, the ear, 
as it is the head and the heart, of the globe; and to 
preach the gospel in Rome, is to preach it in the 
world's pulpit. If to these words you add the whole 
story of Paul's life, you will get a still clearer insight 
into his idea of life as a debt, and a still more vivid 
impression of the grandeur and power of that idea. 
Paul, I say, was an honest man. He represents the 
very highest type of honesty. 

There are various grades of honesty in the world. 
One of the most obvious, and at the same time super- 
ficial, is what we may call material honesty, honesty 
(202) 



SERMONS. 203 

touching material obligations, business integrity, finan- 
cial rectitude, honesty in money matters, money being 
the ordinary equivalent of what these obligations rep- 
resent. This quality indeed is by no means to be dis- 
paraged. There are occasions when it even touches 
the height of true nobility. In our own times it needs 
to be emphasized anew, for there is none too much of 
it in the land, although we would fain believe it is not 
so rare as some indications would lead us to fear. Yet 
after all, judging by the more spiritual tests, this kind 
of honesty is comparatively superficial. It does not 
need much spirituality or moral delicacy to see, that for 
value received there must be value rendered, that when 
a dollar is owed there is a dollar to pay. In fact, there 
are a plenty of men in the world whose financial hon- 
esty is irreproachable, whose general morality is coarse 
grained enough. A man whose word is as good as his 
bond, and whose bond is as good as gold, may have 
a tongue all foul with ribald slime, and a soul that 
crawls in the mire. 

There is an honesty, however, which looks beyond 
material obligations, which does not limit the relations 
of debtor and creditor to the sphere of dollars and 
cents. It recognizes various forms of indebtedness 
within the realm of the immaterial. Among these 
debts we may name gratitude, reverence, faith, service. 
The world's benefactors are its creditors. To those 
who have toiled and sacrificed much for our good, we 
owe a debt of endless gratitude. To those who tower 
above us in loftiness of character and attainment, to 
all that stands over us in the attitude of guidance and 
authority, we owe reverence. There is a debt of faith 
due from us to all that worthily inspires confidence. 
There is a debt of service, care and help, which those 
who are dependent upon us may rightfully claim at our 



204 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

hands. These are debts in the proper sense of the 
word, being due from us as truly as any obligations 
that we incur by buying or borrowing. They are the 
foundation of our duties, for as I need not remind you, 
debt, due, duty, are all simply variations of the same 
word. Wherever there is a duty there is a debt, and 
to be false to duty is repudiation. That is our name 
for sin: repudiation. You see, accordingly, that true 
honesty goes much deeper than the pocket. It pulls 
at the heart-strings as well as the purse-strings. It 
has a balance sheet which sums up not in dead dollars 
and cents, but in the living currency of souls. It is 
possible, however, within either of these spheres, the 
material or immaterial, to take what we may call the 
purely commercial view of what we owe. That is to 
some extent natural, perhaps, seeing that a debt at once 
suggests an equivalent, a quid piv quo. It is easy for 
us accordingly to fall into the way of applying the 
quid pro quo rule , to ask, What is the value received 
in this case ? How much do I owe ? What must I 
pay? It is possible and even easy to take this way of 
estimating our obligations, as though they rested on a 
purely commercial basis of pure reciprocity, and every 
duty was a problem in equations. 

I remark that there is an honesty which does not 
stop to measure its obligations by any merely legal or 
commercial standard, which does not weigh its debts in 
the balance of simple reciprocity, which does not ask, 
How much must I pay? There is an honesty which 
glories in its debts, which believes and rejoices in the 
strange paradox: He that pays his debts to God and 
to the world, shall owe more abundantly, and the more 
he owes, and the more he pays, the richer he shall be, 
the richer in possession for himself, and the more fruit- 
ful in benefit for others. 



SERMONS. 205 

This is the honesty of which I take Paul to be the 
exponent when he says, " I am debtor both to the 
Greeks and to the Barbarians, both to the wise and to 
the unwise," or when he says elsewhere, "1 made 
myself servant unto all." " I am made all things to all 
men." These are the obligations on which I would 
dwell more particularly at this time, of which we may 
comprehensively speak as the debt of the Christimty or 
Christ's service rega7'ded as a debt. 

Before considering our theme in those higher and 
more ennobling aspects, which I have just foreshad- 
owed, it may be well to look at it briefly on its lower 
side, taking an estimate of our debts according to the 
quid pro quo rule of equivalents or compensation. 

1. I begin then, by remarking that we do, in fact, 
owe something to the world in return for what the 
world has done for us. Although this view is not the 
highest that can be taken, it is nevertheless a legitimate 
and useful view of what is required of us. It is a 
view which should appeal to our sense of justice and 
of honor, and one which may serve to show our short- 
comings, judging even by this standard. It needs but 
a moment's consideration to realize in some measure 
the facts of this indebtedness, and the greatness of it. 
We do owe something — nay, we do owe much to the 
world, or, if you please, to society, to humanity, in 
return for what the world, society, humanity, has done 
for us. Let any one try to imagine what he would have 
been, but for the benefits which he has received from 
what others have done. What would any one's life be 
but for the contributions which the world has made to 
it? We are heirs of the past, and beneficiaries of the 
present. The house you live in, the clothes you wear, 
the food you eat, the tools you work with, all the fa- 
cilities which you enjoy for work, rest, sleep, nurture, 



2 GO LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

travel, culture — how much of all this do you owe to 
yourself? All that vast aggregate of utility, comfort 
and power, all that mighty instrumentality of action 
and enjoyment which we call civilization — all the cen- 
turies and all the continents have made it, and it is at 
your service. This marvel that we call the Present, 
with its conquests of force, with its victories over 
space and time — it is born of the travail of the ages, 
of the rapture of countless triumphs, of the agony of 
untold failures — and it is at your hand. Science has 
searched out the deep things of nature, has disentombed 
the memorials of the everlasting hills, has surprised the 
secrets of the most distant stars, has mastered the pro- 
cesses of earth's laboratory, and has thus multiplied 
nature itself a hundredfold — and all for you. Art has 
stolen the witchery of sky and sea, has captured the 
myriad moods of mountain and valley, sunshine and 
storm, and gathered them into her enchanted palace, 
besides dreams and visions of her own, fairer than 
aught seen on land or sea — all for you. Commerce 
wafts, for your comfort or your need, treasures from the 
rising and from the setting sun. Government insures 
your person and your property against violence and 
wrong. Schools provide for you opportunities for mas- 
tering every form of knowledge, and for reaching every 
benefit of culture. Books echo for you the thunder of 
battles, and the silent struggles of thought. The com- 
plex mass of personality, of life and character in the 
world, radiates upon you influences of unspeakable im- 
portance from every point at which you touch it. Social 
institutions and agencies without number leave a thou- 
sand traces of their beneficent activity across your 
daily path. And in speaking of all these agencies which 
have done so much for us, we are speaking, of course, 
of men and women, in the past and present, who have 






SERMONS. 207 

organized and used these instrumentalities for accomplish- 
ing these results. Others have sowed — an innumer- 
able company of toilers, and ye are entered into their 
labors. Surely, in contemplating all that has been thus 
received, no honest, manly heart can help feeling that 
it rests under an indebtedness, the extent of which can 
hardly be measured. 

If then, we take no higher point of view than the 
commercial, or the quid pro quo theory, it would still 
remain that the best we can render to society is not too 
much, simply as a return for what society or the world 
has done for us. The citizen can not do too much for 
the State in repayment of all that the State secures 
for him. The most liberal contribution which the 
scholar can make to the cause of education, will be but 
an inadequate return for the educational benefits which 
he found already provided for himself. The best that 
any one can do in the way of scientific discovery, ar- 
tistic creation, industrial or intellectual production, will 
be none too great a recompense for the triumphs which 
genius, skill and patience have achieved in his behalf. 
The best that any one can be will not outweigh his ob- 
ligations to the heroic lives and pure examples which 
have shone out of the world upon him. The benefits 
which the church, considered as a social agency simply, 
has conferred, constitute a claim which a life of service 
would but poorly repay. The debt which a man owes 
to the home that nurtured him, he never can cancel. 
He who owes to any influence a higher, better life, than 
he would otherwise have reached — that man will die a 
debtor. 

2. But even this view, broad and suggestive as it is, 
does not prepare us to estimate sufficiently the Chris- 
tian's debt to the world. If we were to stop with this we 
should be in danger for one thing, of resting as I said 



208 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

before, in a commercial, not to say a mercenary spirit. 
We should be tempted to be eternally counting up our 
obligations, striking the balance of our debit and credit, 
and life would degenerate into a sordid process of wip- 
ing off old scores. The effect of .all this would be un- 
healthy, it would be narrowing and impoverishing, it 
would tend to foster that selfishness, which measures its 
service by its receipts, to chill that spontaneous disin- 
terested magnanimity, which loves to do good, even 
when nothing has been received, and when nothing can 
be returned. Christianity summons us to a larger, 
freer, nobler life, to a sublimer debtorship. 

The rule of equivalents, moreover, strictly construed, 
would make us partial in our service. It would put us 
on that old Jewish platform, or rather, as we may call 
it, that old platform of publicans and sinners, which 
Christ condemned, when he said, — " If ye love them 
which love you, what reward have ye ? Do not even 
the publicans the same? If ye do good to them which 
do good to you, what thanks have ye ? for sinners also 
do even the same." If we seek to benefit only those 
who benefit us, how about those who are of no use to 
us ? If I am to live only for those who live for me, 
what about the rest? You say, perhaps, let those who 
get some good out of them repay them. Aye — but what 
about the poor, worthless wretches, who are of no good 
to me, nor to anybody else ? Is nobody their debtor ? 
Is nothing due them? Hear what Paul says: "lam 
debtor both to the Greeks." — Ah yes: we can all un- 
derstand that ; the Greeks. They are the world's bene- 
factors, they have enriched the world with a history, 
the lessons of which are surpassed by those of no land's 
history. They have given the world its greatest epic, 
its sublimest tragedy, its profoundest and its acutest 
philosophy, its most irresistible oratory, its most re- 



SERMONS. 2C9 

markable political monuments. The Greeks : they have 
produced the most exquisite sculpture, the most sym- 
metrical architecture, the completest civic life, and the 
most heroic type of character, which the world has 
known. We are all debtors to the Greeks for Homer 
and Pindar, for Aeschylus and Sophocles, for Pericles 
and Demosthenes, for Plato and Aristotle, for Phidias 
and Praxiteles. To them we owe the Parthenon, the 
Apollo, the Areopagus, the democracy of Athens, the 
oligarchy of Sparta, the empire of Macedonia, Ly- 
curgus, Epaminondas, and Socrates — Thermopylae and 
Salamis, and Marathon. Well may est thou say, O 
Paul, that thou art a debtor to the Greeks — Nay, but 
hear him — "I am debtor both to the Greeks and to the 
Barbarians" — Aye — mark the word — "and to the Bar- 
barians" — and by that word Paul means all that the 
word means to us, and more — to the Greeks and to all 
the world besides — to the Scythian and the Parthian — 
to the wild Ishmaelite of the plain, whose hand is 
against every man, and every man's hand against him — 
to the savage islander who strips the wrecked mariner 
of his all, — to the superstitious bushman, who crawls 
before his fetich, — to the brutish dweller in caves, and 
the outcast of Syrian Steppes, who ''embraces the rock 
for want of a shelter," — to the lowest and most de- 
graded pariah of the far East, spat upon by those who 
are t themselves degraded: "I am debtor both to the 
Greeks and to the Barbarians, both to the wise" — to 
the lofty in intellect, the brilliant in imagination, the 
sagacious in counsel, the accomplished in knowledge, 
— "and to the unwise" — to the dull, the brute, the 
fool, whom nobody cares for, whose life is more worth- 
less than a weed, — Paul is that man's Debtor, and every 
man's debtor, and the world's debtor, and you, my 



2IO LLEWEYLN IOAN EVANS. 

brother, if your Christianity is the same as Paul's, are a 
debtor to all the world. 

What is your debt? As briefly as possible, let me 
try to answer that question. I. You owe to the world 
the best that you can be. You owe to it a holy, God- 
like, character. The world has the right to require in 
you the image of God, for that is what you were meant 
to be. And the world has the right to ask of every- 
thing that it should conform to the type after which it 
was created, that it should realize the character and 
the function which God's plan assigns to it. It has the 
right to expect of the rose the properties of a rose, and 
not of a thistle ; to demand that a diamond should be a 
diamond, and not a bit of common glass. You are not 
simply to exist in the world, you are to be the likeness 
of the living God, a power in which God shall be felt, 
a glory in which God shall be seen, a character in 
which God shall be glorified. To be that, my brother, 
is to be the best that you can be. It is to open every 
part of your being to God — to be illuminated, ener- 
gized, transfigured by the Divine Indwelling. The man 
in whom God thus dwelleth, is an instrumentality by 
which God works, a medium through which He com- 
municates Himself to the world. His life is a Divine 
influence. His personality is an Ark of the living God. 
His character is a Shekinah. His presence is a bene- 
diction. 

2. You owe to the world the best of all that you 
have. By this I mean the use, the fruit of all that 
you have. You say, perhaps, that you need so much 
of your property to support yourself and family, to 
carry on your business, to furnish your home, to make 
it attractive, refined and ennobling. So be it. But 
remember that in using it for these necessary ends, you 
are to use it with an ulterior view to the glory of God 



SERMONS. 211 

and the good of the world. You need so much to 
support yourself — very well, but why should you live ? 
Is it simply that there may be one more name for the 
census? You have your business to carry on — but 
why? Is it merely that there may be one more firm 
on the street? Why should you make your home 
winning and happy? Is it only that you and your 
household may have a better time in living ? All that 
your property does for you, it should through you, do 
for the world. All that your property does for your 
home, it should through your home, do for other 
homes and hearts. The enlarged power, culture, re- 
finement, happiness, which your means of living pro- 
cure for you, are to find their way beyond you into 
the world of Greeks and Barbarians. They are not to 
be swallowed up in that little circle of self, of which 
you are the center; they are to spread into that circle 
of humanity, of which God is the center. And beyond 
what is thus needful for your present use, or future de- 
pendence, all should be subject at all time and imme- 
diately to God's drafts upon it for his needy, perishing 
world. 

Paul, to be sure, was a poor missionary, and when 
necessary made tents for a living; but had he been as 
rich as Solomon, we may be sure that holding out his 
all toward the world, he would still have said: "I am 
debtor both to the Greeks and to the Barbarians," and 
he would have paid that debt too, like an honest 
man. 

3. You owe to the world the best of all that you 
know. You live in a world where there is much to be 
known, where knowledge crowns a man with dignity, 
and his life with power. The pursuit of knowledge is 
sweet, the possession of it brings satisfaction and 
strength. But what, after all, is knowledge for ? Why 



212 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

should a man know? Simply to serve himself? That 
is the use the Devil makes of his knowledge. Man 
owes his knowledge. He should use it for others. 
The more he knows, the more useful he should become ; 
and in the best life, the desire to do good to others is 
one of the strongest incentives to know more. Let 
the man of the world seek knowledge simply as a 
means of power, of pleasure, of fame ; the man of 
God will seek it as a means of getting more of God 
into himself, and of giving more of God to the world. 

4. You owe the best of all your experience. I do 
not mean that you should trumpet abroad every pass- 
ing feeling, still less that you should proclaim from 
the housetop, those most sacred and precious experi- 
ences which can and should be known only to God — 
and yourself. But throughout life's discipline, in every 
teaching of Providence, and of its Spirit, in every feel- 
ing wrought by Divine Truth in the soul, in every ex- 
perience of God's grace in all his various dealings with 
you, there is something which can and which should be 
in some way communicated, some sweet flavor, at least 
some ripe fruit of the same, of which others can be 
made to partake. It were a crime to hoard it all up 
within ; the world should in some way be made the 
richer for it. Hear the pious Psalmist: "I have not 
hid thy righteousness within my heart. I have de- 
clared thy faithfulness and thy salvation. I have not 
concealed thy loving kindness, and thy truth from the 
great congregation." 

5. You owe to the world the best of all you can do. 
The rule is not — the best for yourself, and what is left 
over for the world. No, no ! for yourself, once more, 
only as means to an end, only that others may be 
reached and blessed. The law of action, my brother, 
is service. Have you ever thought that there is a 



SERMONS. 2 1 3 

sense in which this is true, even of God ? God's ac- 
tivity is a ministry. "The Son of Man came not to 
be ministered unto, but to minister," and in His life, 
the life of God reveals itself as one of service. "Who- 
soever will be chief among you, let him be your serv- 
ant, " and the God who is the Sovereign of all, He is 
the Servant of all — yes — and it is with reverence I 
would say it — the Great God to whom we owe every- 
thing. He waits upon His universe, He ministers to 
all His creatures, from the highest to the lowest, as 
though He were their Debtor! What a lesson, my 
brother, for you and for me ! Shall I, a poor, misera- 
ble beggar, a pensioner on God's bounty, live to my- 
self — live as though I owed nothing ? 

6. To sum up all in regard to the substance of our 
debt — we owe to the world Love. ' ' Owe no man 
anything but to love one another," says Paul in an- 
other place, and those words are a commentary on 
these. In other words, owe no man anything, except 
to owe every man everything. Let this be your only 
debt, to owe your whole self to the whole world. For 
to owe love is to owe all. A true Christian life is a 
perpetual assignment. "God is Love." If man be 
God's image, it should be equally true to say: et Man 
is love." God is the Infinite Fountain of all good, 
ever sending forth streams of blessing, and the life 
which He gives is a life which springs up not only to 
life everlasting for the possessor, but to good immortal 
for others. Where the love of God is shed abroad in 
the heart, it prompts man to will and to do for others 
what God is willing and doing for them. And here we 
strike upon the very heart of our subject. Here we 
come upon the principle which not only explains Paul's 
language, but which is the keynote of Christianity, the 
very heart of Christ's life and work. 



214 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

For mark it, my brother, this debt of yours to the 
world is not a sweet little touch of sentiment, not a 
pretty figure of speech belonging to the poetry of 
charity, romance, or benevolence, not even the more 
earnest phrase of a genuine enthusiasm of humanity, of 
a certain sort. Be not misled by the mere sound of 
words. "The enthusiasm of humanity," "the service 
of mankind," " the love of the race," yes, fine phrases, 
all of them, no doubt ; and you have known something 
perhaps of a dilettante Gospel of which they are the 
Alpha and Omega. It has much to say, and it says 
it beautifully and eloquently, of the Universal Father- 
hood of God, of the universal brotherhood of man, the 
sublimity of universal benevolence, the grandeur of 
self-sacrifice, the beauty of the ministry of love. Its 
saint, Abou Ben Adhem, if you please ; its creed, 
that worthy's prayer : Write me as one that loves my 
brother man. 

Sweet and modest enough, no doubt. But ah ! sirs, 
what is it to love your brother man ? to provide food 
for his hunger and clothing for his nakedness? to teach 
him the alphabet and a trade ? to give him a cottage, 
and flowers, and chromos, and books, and periodic dis- 
sertations on the Beautiful, and the Good, and the True ? 
Well enough, doubtless, so far as it goes, but is that 
all? Ah, ye friends of humanity, be assured that the 
only definition of your own creed which is worth any- 
thing, is that which is to be learned from the cross of 
Jesus Christ. "Love ye one another as I have loved 
you." " Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfill 
the law of Christ." The love which does not see in 
man everywhere the lost one whom Christ has come 
to save, which does not realize the exceeding sinfulness 
of that sin which cost the agony of Gethsemane and 
Calvary, the love in which regeneration is a fiction, 



SERMONS. 215 

atonement a superstition, the wrath of God a myth, 
the love which does not love God, the honor of God, 
the justice of God, the character of God, the love 
which does not seek to save man as God seeks to save 
him, that love, be assured, is blind and helpless. 
Genial and amiable it may be, but superficial and 
powerless nevertheless. Go to the cross, and there 
learn the world's want, learn the malignity of the curse 
from which it is to be delivered, the depth of degrada- 
tion from which it is to be rescued. " God, who is 
rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved 
us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened 
us together with Christ." "When we were enemies, 
we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son." 
Go to the cross, and there learn humanity's worth, in 
the price paid for its redemption. "Ye were not 
redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, 
but with the precious blood of Christ." Go to the 
cross and there learn what it is to love the world in 
the sacrifice which God made for its salvation. "God 
so loved the world that he gave his only begotten 
Son." "He that spared not his own Son, but delivered 
him up for us all, how shall he not with him also 
freely give us all things?" Go to the cross and there 
learn the infinite obligation which is laid upon you, learn 
what you owe to Him who loved you, and gave him- 
self for you, learn to be crucified with Him who was 
crucified for you, to crucify self, to crucify sin, to die 
with Him to the world, that you may live with Him to 
God. Go to the cross and there learn Christ's right to 
the world. For in dying for it, Christ has made the 
world His own. The Father has rewarded His humilia- 
tion by crowning Him Lord of all, by giving Him the 
nations for an inheritance, and the uttermost parts of 
the earth for a possession. Here, and here only can 



2l6 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

you learn what your debt is. You owe Christ to the 
world. You owe the world to Christ. You owe your- 
self to Christ and to the world. That is your debt. 

The world needs Christ, it needs His life, it needs 
His truth, it needs His spirit, it needs His cross, and 
you are to give Christ to the world, in your life, in 
your character, in your words, in your service. 

Christ wants the world. He wants it redeemed, 
purified, perfected. He wants it as His own, His wit- 
ness, His image, as the harvest of His tears and blood, 
as the crown of His rejoicing, and to the utmost of 
your ability you are to give the v/orld to Christ, to 
save it for Him. 

Christ wants you — your affections, your powers, your 
property, your plans, your all for Himself — wants you 
because He loves you, and because out of Him you can 
do nothing. And the world wants you. It wants Christ 
in you ; it wants the best you can be, and that is Christ 
formed in you ; the best you can do, and that is Christ 
working mightily in you ; the best that you know and 
feel and have— and what is all this but Christ as the 
center of your being, the motive power of your life, the 
lord of your service ? Christ for the world — the world 
for Christ — and yourself for the world and for Christ. 
And when once you have realized Christ's claims on 
yourself and on the world, all the rest will follow. To 
seek to put Christ in possession of His own — that is to 
be the world's debtor. The love of Christ — in that you 
have the true love of humanity. He that truly loves 
Christ will love with something of Christ's love those 
for whom He died. This love is the Christian's debt, 
and here we have : 

That which explains the peculiarities of this debt, 
(i) It explains its universality. God loves the world. 
Christ died for all, and the Christian, like Paul, is a 



SERMONS. 217 

debtor to all mankind. He loves, with a love born of 
God's love, all whom God loves. He yearns for the sal- 
vation of all for whom Christ died, with a longing 
which has come into his heart out of the Savior's heart. 
It is a love — and thus it is a debt — broad as the 
world and deep as every want and woe of a lost hu- 
manity. It reaches wherever the cross reaches. (2) 
It explains again its freeness and disinterestedness. 
This debt knows no constraint save that of Love Di- 
vine. "The love of Christ constraineth us." There 
is here no selfish counting of the cost. You do not 
dole out your service. You do not weigh out your love 
in scruples and grains. You are not afraid of going too 
far, of paying too much. No ! ' ' freely ye have re- 
ceived, freely give," that is the motto. You have re- 
ceived infinitely ; you would, if it were in your power 
repay infinitely, you can never do enough. Your lan- 
guage is — 

" Were the whole realm of nature mine, 
That were a present far too small : 
Love so amazing, so divine, 
Demands my soul, my life, my all." 

(3) For this same reason it is a debt which can not 
be exhausted. Love's debt is never discharged. The 
more it pays, the more it owes. Most of all is this 
true of Christian love. As the love grows, the debt 
grows. The more it is exercised, the stronger does the 
love become, and the more irresistible the impulse by 
which it is swayed. The more spiritual and Christlike 
it grows, the more deeply does it realize the world's 
necessities, and the more readily does it respond to the 
claims of Christ and the world upon it. In a word, the 
more it owes the more it gives, and the more it gives, 
the greater is the debt ; and eternity will only add to 
the sweet despair of ever being able to satisfy love's 



2l8 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

blest longing to give itself away. But why may not 
the love itself fade away and perish ? Ah, my brother, 
it is because it is exercised in and through and for 
Christ. A love of humanity in the abstract, certainly 
might perish. A mere sentimental benevolence might 
and would wane away. A living love must have a Per- 
sonal Inspiration, and that you will find only in Christ. 
Apart from Him the love of humanity is as a branch 
that is cast away and withers. But union with Christ 
furnishes it with an unfailing inspiration. His personal 
presence acts upon it with quickening and strengthen- 
ing power. While He is near, while He dwells within, 
the heart can not cease to love, to yearn for the lost, 
to go forth in sympathy and to lavish itself on want 
and w r oe. When He is within, then while there is good 
to be done, while there is want to be relieved, while 
there is a sin to save from, and a soul to be saved, nay, 
while there is anyone or anything to love for Christ's sake, 
and a channel for love to flow in — that love will be a 
blessed reality. The spirit w r hich He imparts is no spas- 
modic passion, no effervescing and transient sentiment. 
It is unwasting, unwearying as Himself. (4) And here 
you see finally, why this debt of love and service, as 
it is never to be exhausted, as it is one which is ever 
to grow, so it is one of which the Christian is never to 
be ashamed. Ashamed of it ! Nay, he glories in it. 
It is his chief honor. It was with a noble and holy 
exultation that Paul exclaimed, " I am debtor both to 
the Greeks and to the Barbarians, both to the wise and 
to the unwise." There are debts which bring humilia- 
tion and shame. They crush the spirit. They take 
away all manliness. They are a blight on the life. But 
the debt of which the Christian boasts expands and ex- 
alts the soul. It is an inspiration. It stimulates every 
power and purpose. It ennobles the life, gives man 



SERMONS. 



219 



the consciousness of an end in living worthy of the 
highest capabilities and attainments of manhood. This 
sense of a boundless and an endless obligation becomes 
the power of a boundless and an endless life. This life for 
Christ and for His world is a life of freedom, of joy, of 
growth ; yes, of growth into the life of God, into the 
Heart of Christ, into the power of the Holy Ghost. 

And now, brethren of the Seminary, in discharging 
the duty laid on me, of thus addressing you on this 
first Sabbath of a new Seminary year, I hold up before 
you this Debt, and urge you one and all to accept it 
in all its greatness, in all that it costs, in all that it 
offers, and to glory in it. I know of no better prepara- 
tion for all of us in view of the work of the coming 
year, than to be fully imbued with the spirit in which 
the great Apostle of the Gentiles addressed himself to 
the preparation of the master-piece of his life. It was 
as the world's debtor that he wrote this wonderful 
Epistle to the Romans, in which he reaches and unfolds 
the heights and depths of the Gospel. As the world's 
debtors I would that w r e might engage this year in our 
work, whether it be teaching, or learning the heights 
and depths of that same Gospel. We can surely be 
actuated by no higher motive than the feeling which is 
prompted by the recognition of that glorious, immeas- 
urable, inexhaustible, inspiring obligation which we owe 
to Christ and His world. 

Do you ask yourself — why are you here? May I 
not answer in a word by saying — it is to learn, as here 
you may be helped in learning, how best you may 
pay your debt to the world ; and be assured that 
the more you realize its magnitude, its sacredness, its 
blessedness, the more solicitous you will be to make 
yourself worthy of it. Oh, my brother ! it is an honor 
to owe this debt, it is a privilege with which earth has 



220 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

nothing to compare, to devote ourselves to the lifelong 
payment of it, in its highest and purest form, but it is 
an honor which should make us tremble, it is a priv- 
ilege of which to be unworthy were the saddest of all 
failures. Remember, then, to be worthy of it, you 
can not be too holy. You can not be too earnest. You 
can not be too diligent. You can not prepare yourself 
too thoroughly for its demands upon you. You can 
not afford to slight any opportunity, nor to decline any 
instrumentality by which you may become thoroughly 
furnished to discharge the obligation which God lays 
upon you. There is no Key of Knoweldge, there is no 
element of power, there is no perfection of mind, or 
of heart, which you should not be anxious to possess. 
You can not know too much of that Divine Truth 
which you hope to impart to others in all its sources, 
in all its relations, in all its developments, in all its 
modes and application! You can not have too rich 
and deep an experience of it in your own heart. You 
can not be too bright and eloquent an illustration of it 
in your own life. All that this Seminary can do for 
you, all that your religious associations and activities 
can do for you, all that your personal culture of mind 
and heart can do for you, — let me say more, all that 
God by His word can do for you, all that Christ by 
His Spirit can do for you, while here — will be none too 
much to qualify you to pay what you owe to Christ 
and His world. If you owe yourself, then be all that 
you can be. If you owe the Gospel, then let the Gos- 
pel be a light filling your mind, a power filling your 
heart. Christ claims you for His world at your best. 
He claims the most and the best that you can be, the 
most and the best that you can acquire, the most and 
the best that you can do. May God so assist you in 
fitting yourself for this service, that however short you 
come at last of paying all you owe, it may at least be 
said of you, "He hath done what he could." 



X. 

ENDURANCE. 

Proverbs 24 : 10. "If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small." 

This proverb breathes throughout the spirit of an- 
tiquity. This shows itself not so much in the spirit of 
the proverb as in its form. The virtue of fortitude is 
not distinctively antique, although greater prominence 
was given to it in ancient than in modern morality. 
The reason for this I apprehend to be two-fold. 
First, the inferior development of the intellectual pow- 
ers and resources of humanity. The increase of knowl- 
edge, the progress which has been made in science and 
art, the multiplication of activities, professions and 
pursuits, in which skill,- cunning, foresight, calculating 
combination, adaptation, invention, and other intellectual 
powers might be exercised and embodied, has opened 
new avenues of distinction, and presents new objects, 
which men may aspire after. Before this intellectual 
development took place, men sought to be respected 
rather for the display of qualities which are inherent 
in man's constitution, and which require only a strong 
will and persistent application to bring out. The ten- 
dency of modern civilization is perhaps to the other 
extreme, to place less value on moral qualities, and 
more on intellectual than they deserve. ' Another reason 
for the greater prominence formerly assigned to fortitude 

(221) 



222 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

is to be found in the narrower development of the moral 
activities themselves. The moral life of men was not 
altogether so broad of old. The social obligations were 
not so universally felt. The claims of humanity were 
not so clearly recognized. Men were more isolated than 
now. The virtues held in highest repute were those of 
man as an individual, standing alone, rather than those 
of man as a member of the body social, bound up with 
others. The spread of Christianity has brought into 
clearer light our duties to others, and the claims of a 
common brotherhood. It has stimulated the sympa- 
thies, the outreaching affections, the charities, the 
beneficent activities of men. Although Christianity 
makes no change in a man's duties to himself, but rather 
confirms them, although the independent or individual 
virtues, those which belong to man as an independent 
agent, are the same as before, the greater prominence 
which it gives to the active, diffusive, communicative 
powers of morality, have perhaps rendered less salient 
its passive, self-supporting, and defensive powers. 

God educates the individual by bringing first into 
exercise the powers which are necessary to maintain an 
independent existence and growth, the powers of self- 
preservation, self-protection, self-development. Then 
the social instincts are brought into exercise, those 
which are necessary to the existence and wellbeing of 
society. 

The race is educated in the same way. The moral prin- 
ciples first impressed on men have a more immediate 
bearing on the individual. As the race makes progress 
in these, other principles are urged with greater distinct- 
ness, principles of a wider application, which without 
displacing those first engrafted, tend to give greater 
breadth as well as depth to the life. Observe, I do not 
affirm that there is any morality antecedent to benevo- 



SERMONS. 223 

lence. There can be no virtue without love ; love to God, 
love to man. But although it is the nature of this love 
to give, to impart, to lavish itself on others, it is not 
inconsistent with the highest and most enlightened re- 
gard for the interests of the individual. It does not 
disparage the qualities which give grandeur, nobility, 
strength to man as a unit. It might be easily shown 
that as there can be no true greatness without love, nei- 
ther can there be love of the highest order without a dis- 
tinct consciousness of the elements of individual greatness. 
We see these principles illustrated in the education 
of the Jewish nation, which is a type of that of the 
world. God had from the first proclaimed love to be 
the great law of his Kingdom. At the same time he 
circumscribed the nation within fixed bounds, which 
separated it from the rest of the world. He impressed 
upon it a strong instinct of national self-preservation. He 
permitted the growth of tribal sympathies and local at- 
tachments. And above all he encouraged the cultiva- 
tion of those moral excellencies, those personal attributes 
which clothe the possessor with a celestial nobility, 
making him an object of admiring contemplation and of 
conscious imitation. Hence the significance which at- 
taches to the histories of individual men among the 
Jews, as e. g. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, David, 
Daniel. Hence also, in the Epistle to the Hebrews, 
which, whoever may have been its author, was con- 
ceived in a genuine Hebrew spirit, we see the wonder- 
ful and apt force of the Eleventh Chapter, where the 
examples of departed Jewish worthies are chanted in a 
most magnificent pean. In every one of those exam- 
ples you will observe that the quality recommended is 
individual strength, self-contained power, fortitude, un- 
bending and unbreakable firmness of will in bearing, 
enduring, and doing. 



224 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

And as God has never intended this virtue to be 
superseded by Christianity, which sets aside nothing 
that is noble, but confirms and energizes it rather, it 
may not be amiss for us to look at it a little, and that, 
if possible, in the old Hebrew spirit, enlightened how- 
ever, let us pray that it may be, and enlarged by the 
spirit of Christianity. 

* ' If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength 
is small." The truth here affirmed may be thus para- 
phrased : If a man is overpowered by calamity, if he is 
overmastered, made useless, if his manhood be laid 
prostrate by misfortune, it is a sign of weakness. 

I. It is not necessarily any evidence of a weak, de- 
fective character, that a man is the victim of misfor- 
tune. Undoubtedly there are calamities which are a 
disgrace to him on whom they fall. Every calamity 
which is the natural result of presumption, which is the 
inevitable recoil of overbearing pride, which is the 
bitter fruit of dishonesty, or treachery, which is the fall- 
ing asunder of inward rottenness, which is the accumu- 
lated and just retribution of baseness, hypocrisy, cruelty, 
selfishness, is a brand of shame on him who bears it. 

But all calamities are not the direct penalty of indi- 
vidual transgression. We are so bound up, one with 
another, our interests are so intermingled, that one is 
seldom ruined without involving others with himself. 
The sufferings and trials which the guilty bring down 
on their own heads, must often overwhelm the inno- 
cent too. 

God has organized humanity in circles of wider or 
narrower extent. One of these circles circumscribes the 
nation. Another includes the family. Others embrace 
the professional, the social, the political, the ecclesiast- 
ical communities into which society is divided. What- 
ever affects any one of these circles, affects most, 



SERMONS. 225 

perhaps all who belong to it. Blessings are diffused, 
curses are spread, through the same law. Men are tried 
in their social feelings, in their natural affections, in the 
hopes and desires which they cherish as citizens of a 
nation, and as members of a civil or religious brother- 
hood. 

To some extent, indeed, individuals are responsible 
for those general disasters which come on nations and 
communities, on account of national crimes or social 
sins. All who are directly implicated in them, or sustain 
them, must be held legally accountable. God does 
thus hold them. And when the responsibility and guilt 
are thus distributed, they are just as real, and the pun- 
ishment which overtakes them is just as disgraceful to 
each sufferer as though he alone were guilty, and he 
alone suffered. But where the calamity is part of a 
general disciplinary system, as in the case of famine, 
plague, war, or any general misfortune brought on by 
the guilt of some, or of many perhaps, but not all of 
the sufferers, it cannot be regarded as a reproach to all 
alike. 

2. Again, it is no evidence of weakness when men 
show that they feel, and that keenly, their misfortunes. 

Pain is a natural appointment, for the most part in- 
voluntary and unavoidable. It depends on the nature 
and function of the sensibilities with which we are en- 
dowed, whether physical or spiritual. Moreover, the 
measure and quality of the pain endured is an index to 
the rank and excellence of the being by whom it is en- 
dured. As we ascend in the scale of existence, the 
sensibilities become finer and more acute. Man has 
susceptibilities to pain which no inferior order of crea- 
tures can have, and which are evidences of higher 
capacity, both of attainment and enjoyment. 

Among men, again, there is almost every grade of 



226 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

susceptibility. Some are comparatively obtuse, their 
sensibilities are blunt, sheathed as it were in hard armor. 
Others are highly sensitive, they have the most deli- 
cate and exquisite susceptibility to pain. There is no 
reason why they should restrain all exhibition of these, 
more than of any other sensibilities. There is nothing 
more improper or unmanly in letting the world know 
how greatly we suffer, than in letting it know how 
greatly we rejoice. It may be unmanly to be over- 
mastered by grief, but it is no less unmanly to be 
overmastered by joy. To be unmanned by anything is 
unworthy of a man. For if to him has been given the 
power of more exquisite feeling, to him has also been 
given the power of a more rigid self-control. By a 
beautiful law of compensation, those natures which are 
most delicately sensitive, have in general the greatest 
power of persistence, of patient, calm endurance. 
Woman, whose sensibilities are constitutionally so 
much more acute, not seldom displays a silent, uncom- 
plaining fortitude, which astonishes the world. 

This fortitude which accompanies deep sensibility, is 
a different thing from that nerve, that nonchalance, that 
"cold blood," {sang froid) as the French call it, with 
which men of an iron nature look on danger or pain. 
There is a physical imperturbability, a stoicism of the 
nerves, which enables some to bear without wincing, 
what w r ould make others faint outright. One can look 
on firmly, and converse calmly, while his arm is sawed 
off; another will barely survive the operation even with 
chloroform or ether to aid him. Yet the latter may be 
every whit as brave as the other. It is a difference of 
organization, a difference between fine and coarse. But 
let the pain be of that subtle, mysterious character 
which comes on quietly, but irresistibly, as a shadow 
which spreads like poison, working more and more 



SERMONS. 227 

the bitterness of death, and the finer organization 
will probably display greater power of resistance and 
endurance than the coarser. One man will bear an 
affliction that smites like the blow of a sledgehammer, 
and yet break his heart under the dull monotony of a 
pain which oppresses him like the gloom of a dungeon. 
Another will become as one that is dead from the sharp 
agony of a pain that cuts like a lancet into the flesh, 
who will bear w r ith the fortitude of a Prometheus, the 
slow torture of a sorrow, gnawing like a vulture at 
his heart. 

But to endure pain with patience and fortitude is one 
thing; to try to seem perfectly indifferent to it, or 
utterly unaffected by it, is another. The former is a 
virtue ; the latter folly. Here is where the old stoic 
philosophers erred, who otherwise said many wise 
things, and did many noble things, and whose phi- 
losophy was far superior to many of the shallow, butter- 
fly speculations of their day. But they did not rightly 
apprehend, as it was impossible for them, perhaps, 
rightly to apprehend, without Divine Revelation, the 
sacred significance of sorrow. They overlooked the 
holy ministry of pain in chastening men; not in break- 
ing down their spirits, but in humbling them. No man 
is the same while he suffers, or after that he has suf- 
fered, that he was before, and it is folly to pretend it. 
I do not say that a man ought to parade his sorrows 
before the world, to proclaim his grief in public places, 
to lay bare his innermost heart to the careless gaze of 
the multitude. There is in every deep sorrow much 
that can not be told, which can not be brought to the 
surface, which is too sacred for any eye but that of 
God. There is a line in the depths of suffering below 
which Divine Sympathy can alone descend. There is 
not a depth to which that can not reach. It is not a deep 



2 28 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

nature that forgets what is due to the sacredness of sor- 
row; but neither is it a weak nature that remembers 
what is due to the power of sorrow. 

3. Again : it is not a sign of weakness, if, when a man 
is overtaken by calamity, he pauses for a time to con- 
sider its nature, its cause, its probable consequences and 
his own duty. There are some who regard it as an indi- 
cation of strength, not to be impeded or delayed in their 
course by any disaster, but to go on in the same direc- 
tion, with the same urgency and pertinacity as before. 
They are like a wild beast which, when it is hindered in 
its course, dashes against the obstruction, butting ob- 
stinately against it, without pausing to consider whether 
it can be beaten down by opposition, or whether the 
path which it is pursuing is the safest to be taken. 
Obstacles and reverses may produce in a man one of 
several results. They may either arouse a spirit of 
stubborn doggedness, which, right or wrong, will not be 
turned aside, which will plunge madly and blindly on- 
ward from one disaster to another, or fume or chafe 
itself to death against invincible difficulties, which is 
the most insane result of all. Or they may generate 
despair, and impel a man to throw up everything, and 
to cry out that all is lost, without making any effort to 
rally against misfortune, which is the weakest result of 
all. Or they may produce irresolution, vacillation; 
they may drive the man to be utterly at a loss what 
to do next, which is also a sign of imbecility. Or 
they may lead him to pause, to bethink himself, to 
take his bearings and soundings, and to find out where 
he is, and in what plight; to look backward and see 
how he came where he now is ; and forward and see 
how best to extricate himself; how much he must be 
content to lose, and how much he can save, and what 
he can afford to lose, and what he must save. This, as 



SERMONS. 229 

it would be evidence of prudence, is also a sign of 
strength. 

There is, indeed, one course nobler and better yet; 
i. e. y when, even before the calamity comes, one has 
made up his mind what is best to be done, has fully 
planned out his line of conduct, taken into considera- 
tion the difficulties and the failures which may occur, 
has anticipated and made provision for all possible re- 
verses, when one has foreseen where the danger is 
likely to break out, is ready for every emergency, and 
is so completely master of himself and master of his 
situation, that instead of being overwhelmed by disas- 
ter, he emerges victorious over the past, strong in the 
present, hopeful for the future. Indeed, there are sit- 
uations when this is a man's only salvation, when, if he 
is not prepared to act with the utmost promptness, he 
is lost ! There are difficulties, dangers and disasters 
ahead which can be foreseen, which a mind accustomed 
to reason on general principles and laws will perceive 
to be inevitable, against which it can, therefore, fortify 
itself. 

' ' A prudent man foreseeth the evil and hideth him- 
self, but the simple pass on and are punished." When 
it can be thus foreseen one will be stronger, of course, 
to meet it. But sometimes it breaks unexpectedly on 
a community or an individual. Disaster overtakes them 
unawares. And when that is the case, it is no proof of 
weakness to pause in one's course to consider the situ- 
ation, and to delay action not until it is too late, but 
until the way becomes clear enough for the adoption of 
some definite course. For men, governments, societies, 
all bodies which act, must have a policy; that is to say, 
they must have a distinct and clear understanding of 
what they are about, and of the means employed to 
bring about the results contemplated. They must act 



23O LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

from principles and not from shifting expediencies, if 
they would succeed. 

4. It is no proof of weakness for a man when admon- 
ished by some decisive disaster that the course which 
has been pursued in seeking any end is wrong, to aban- 
don it and enter on a new course. 

If the policy adopted to secure any object fairly and 
utterly breaks down, showing that it can no longer be 
relied on, wisdom dictates its abandonment. It is no 
act of weakness to give up that which is weak. Of 
course a plan which has been adopted thoughtfully, 
candidly, conscientiously, which seems at the time the 
best possible, deserves and should receive a fair trial. 
But when it has been tried fairly, sufficiently, long 
enough, and thoroughly enough, and has been found 
wanting, it is anything but imbecility to throw it away, 
saying, "No more of that." It is strength rather. It 
is weakness not to do it. It is imbecility to cling to 
old prejudices, to adhere to moth-eaten precedents, to 
throw away golden opportunities, because to do other- 
wise would require a little sacrifice of pride. This ob- 
stinate adherence to prejudices, to certain policies with 
which a man has identified himself, or with which a 
party has identified itself, this stubborn persistence in 
trying to do what experience shows abundantly can 
not be done, or ought not to be done, recoils with ter- 
rible effect upon the head of those who are guilty of it. 
History is full of examples of the fatal consequences of 
such folly. There has been no more fruitful source of 
disaster than that moral cowardice which shrinks from 
the confession, "I am wrong! I have acted foolishly!" 
and turns over a new leaf. One of the noblest and 
wisest things which a man or a people can do in time 
of adversity is to make a frank, manly acknowledgment 
of defeat, of failure, of grievous error; to accept the 



SERMONS. 231 

humiliating fact with all its inevitable results, however 
painful — not to make a maundering and silly parade of 
it, for men should preserve their self-respect in advers- 
ity — but to face it fearlessly, to probe it honestly, to own 
it freely and then to gird themselves at once to retrieve 
their failure, to turn their back on all which led to it, to 
avoid in future, the errors of the past and by the wis- 
dom and experience, as well as the humility and pa- 
tience acquired through adversity, to work out a more 
glorious destiny than if the failure had never befallen 
them : that is wisdom : that is strength. 

But let us consider briefly what it is to faint in the 
day of adversity. And what are some of the signs of 
weakness which adversity brings into prominence. 

1 . It is a sign of weakness in adversity to lose faith 
in God. 

God is an everpresent reality. He is personally pres- 
ent everywhere. His Providence is over all his works. 
All the issue and results of life are included in his 
plan. All the calamities and sufferings which visit the 
human family are embraced in his purposes, and per- 
mitted or ordained for their good. The greatest dis- 
asters therefore ought not to take away our confidence 
in him. Nothing must be allowed to rob the soul of 
its faith in God. This faith is essential to our spiritual 
life, just as God himself is essential to all life. It is in- 
dispensable to all faithful activity in the service of God. 
It is the true basis of that calmness, that peace which 
should underlie every feeling and deed. Man cannot 
afford to lose it therefore. It is true that the mind 
may be stunned by the shocks of adversity, it may be 
paralyzed by the lightning-stroke of calamity; it may 
be bewildered by the confusion of a general wreck of 
everything; and in this temporary paralysis, this pres- 
ent bewilderment, it may be pressed by cruel doubts. 



232 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

But this condition must not be allowed to become per- 
manent. God will allow no blow so heavy to fall on a 
man as to crush him forever. He himself may desire to 
try our faith, to test its truth and power; he may roll 
heavy burdens on it; he may send the floods to beat 
against it, and to sweep over it; but destroy it — quench 
it — uproot it, that he never will. If it is swept away, 
it is because it never had taken firm root. If it ever is 
crushed, it is because it never had any true vitality. 
If men settle down in unbelief, if they learn to doubt the 
goodness of God, to distrust his power, to suspect his 
willingness to hear prayer, and his readiness to answer 
it, to regard him as a God afar off, — it is a weakness, 
a guilty weakness, a sin; for every suck weakness, is 
no misfortune merely, it is a crime; and if it deserves 
pity, it deserves no less consideration. Beware of that 
insidious device of an evil heart, which says of a sin, 
"It is my infirmity!" and hopes thus to extenuate its 
guilt, if not to escape punishment. It is a lying refuge, 
which like every other, will be swept away. 

2. It is a sign of weakness in adversity, secondly, 
when men lose their faith in the right, in its present 
obligations, and its ultimate success. 

This indeed is involved in what has already been said 
aboyt faith in God. No one can maintain his faith in 
God, and lose his faith in the right. Nor can he maintain 
his faith in the right, and lose his faith in God. If there 
is a God, a Holy Being, who is of purer eyes than to 
behold iniquity, and who cannot look on sin, who hates 
impurity, and selfishness with infinite abhorrence, a Just 
Being, whose purpose is immutable to punish the guilty 
and to reward the innocent, and to secure the final 
triumph of the right, and utter overthrow of the wrong, 
an Almighty Being, whose Power is the willing minis- 
ter of his Holiness, Justice and Love, and the sure 



SERMONS. 233 

guarantee of the fulfillment of his will, why or how should 
we lose faith in the immutable obligations and the cer- 
tain success of the right? As surely as God reigns, 
and as surely as the reign of God means the reign of all 
which God approves and loves, and the downfall of all 
which God disapproves and hates, so surely will the 
right triumph over wrong. To doubt this is to doubt 
God. To disbelieve this is atheism. 

The most dangerous form of this unbelief is the 
practical. There are very few indeed, if any, in our 
days, who doubt the Reign of Right as a theory. The 
dictates of reason are too unmistakable, the voice of 
conscience is too potent to permit the denial of it. 
But there is a practical disbelief of it, which, as it is 
much easier to fall into it, is as much more insidious 
and dangerous, yes fatal, in its consequences, as it is, 
alas, more widespread. There are men in abundance, 
who, while in theory they acknowledge the supremacy 
of pure justice, will, notwithstanding, barter it for pres- 
ent gain, and subordinate it to the claims of worldly 
expediency. This is a crime, one of the highest mis- 
demeanors in God's government, yea, it is of the very 
essence of treason against God's throne. Every lover 
of absolute right should revolt from it as the basest 
infidelity to God. Every friend of justice in its integ- 
rity, of justice as God desires to see it prevail in the 
world, of justice, I say, and of right, which means that 
which ought to be, that which God says must be, not 
that which self-interest desires or expediency commands, 
should spurn away from him every attempt to com- 
promise truth with error, right with wrong, and to hold 
the former in any sort of abeyance to the latter, as 
treason to the King of Heaven and Earth. But there 
are those who without any deliberate purpose to betray 
the right, who, desiring perhaps to maintain it as far 



234 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

as seems to them' practicable, (which, however, is put- 
ting the matter on a very slippery footing-, since, by 
that which is practicable, most people seem to under- 
stand that which is compatible with their own interests), 
there are those who from such motives will under the 
pressure of adversity allow themselves to swerve from 
that inflexible allegiance to the right, and the just, and 
the true, which God demands. But this also is a crime. 
Call it weakness if you will, it is criminal weakness. 
It carries its own condemnation, just as much as the 
more calculating and devilish betrayal, of which others 
are guilty. 

I have already remarked, that when the ends sought 
after are seen to be absolutely impracticable, or essen- 
tially immoral and injurious, we are justified in aban- 
doning them, nay, we are required to do it. It is 
weakness to hold on to them. Also, that when the 
means which have been adopted to secure a manifestly 
just and noble end, fail entirely, and that from their 
own inherent weakness, we are required to discard them 
and try others. But when the ends are indisputably 
high and worthy, and when the instrumentalities are both 
righteous and efficient, to cast them away, just because 
a temporary reverse occurs, which postpones fulfillment 
of the end, and cripples the instrumentalities for a 
season, is most deplorable weakness, is the breach of a 
divine and heavenly trust. When we have a noble end 
before us, and the right sort of means in our hands, 
there is but one thing to be done — to go on, and to go 
on until the end is gained. If we lose our way, let us 
try to find it as soon as we can, and then go on again. 
If we find unforeseen obstacles, let us bring all the 
power that we can to remove them out of the way, and 
then go on again. If the enemy is thicker on the way 
and all around us than we had anticipated, let us mul- 



SERMONS. 235 

tiply our powers and resources, let us be a little more 
watchful and determined, and still go on. If the road 
is longer to the goal than we had deemed it to be, let 
us be a little more patient, but let us still go on. If 
the path is rougher than we thought it was, let us take 
a little more time to it, but all the time let us go on. 
If we fall down, let us get up and go on again. If we 
are more badly hurt than we thought at first, let us do 
our best cheerfully to get over it, and then go on again. 
If it costs us more than we reckoned upon, let us make 
up our minds to the sacrifice, and then go on. The 
question of questions is, are we in the right way? Is 
the right before us? Is justice our Guide? Is truth 
our Leader? Is God the pillar of light which we fol- 
low? 

If we are sure of that, and there is no reason why 
we should not be, let us onward. On, and on, and 
on, while the Right keeps moving. When that stops, 
we may stop too; not before. When the end is 
gained, we may rest; no sooner. When God bids us 
halt, we may do so, but the order is not yet. When 
the banner of righteousness is furled, we may go to 
sleep. When it is stricken down, never to be raised 
again, we may throw away our arms and return from 
the warfare. But that is never to be. If men's hands 
should fail to bear it up, angels' hands will seize it. If 
one after another they should let it fall, God's own hand 
will raise it, and his hand must fail ere it be made to 
trail the dust. Nay, it must never be abandoned. No ! 
not for a moment. Right must always and forever be 
maintained — followed to the grave and into it ; clung 
to until death. Up with the standard! If one stand- 
ard-bearer falls, let another rush to his place; if he 
falls, let another seize it. 

Let it be held up against a tempest of fire, against the 



236 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

crashing hail of earth and hell's artillery ; let it be fol- 
lowed through flood and flame. It is never more 
worthy of our devotion than when the storm of battle 
rages around it, than when it is tried, or rather when 
we are tried in supporting it. 



XI. 

A THANKSGIVING SERMON. 

Isaiah 51 : 9-15. " Awake, awake, put on strength, O arm of the Lord ; awake as in 
the ancient days, in the generations of old. Art thou not it that hath cut Rahab 
and wounded the dragon ? 

Art thou not it that hath dried the sea, the waters of the great deep; that hath 
made the depths of the sea a way for the ransomed to pass over ? 

Therefore the redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing unto 
Zion ; and everlasting joy shall be upon their head : they shall obtain gladness and 
joy ; and sorrow and mourning shall flee away. 

I, even I, am he that comforteth you : who art thou, that thou shouldest be 
afraid of a man that shall die, and of the son of man that shall be made as grass ; 
And forgettest the Lord thy maker, that hath stretched forth the heavens, and laid 
the foundations of the earth; and hast feared continually every day, because of 
the fury of the oppressor, as if he were ready to destroy ? And where is the fury 
of the oppressor? 

The captive exile hasteneth that he may be loosed, and that he should not die in 
the pit, nor that his bread should fail. 

But I am the Lord thy God, that divided the sea, whose waves roared: 

The Lord of hosts is his name." 

Nothing strikes us more forcibly in these old writ- 
ings, in these prophecies, poems and historical records, 
which make up our Sacred Book, than the deep, in- 
tense, ever present consciousness, which pervades them, 
of an all-surrounding, all-embracing, all-inspiring, Infi- 
nite, Personal Presence, whose glory overshadows, whose 
Power sustains, whose Spirit quickens, whose love fills 
all things. It is this same sense, this living realization 
of God which, above all else, is needful to-day, that 
our gratitude may be deep, pure and abounding. We 
hear much said in these days of "the Logic of Events," 
"the Genius of History," "Social Forces," "the hand 
of Destiny." I am not disposed to question about the 
occasional use of such terms. Like the phrases, "Laws 
of Nature," "Physical Forces," they are often conveni- 

( 2 37) 



238 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

ent and expressive. Nor is the fact that they are the 
pet expressions of men who disbelieve in a Personal 
God, who deny an intelligent, over-ruling Providence, 
of itself a decisive objection to their use. Only let us 
not be blinded. As philosophers, speculating in ab- 
stract ideas, there is no objection to the use of general 
terms, as symbols of certain facts. As poets, thinking 
in metaphors or in allegories, there is no objection to 
the use of figurative expressions, as images of certain 
realities. But as earnest, thoughtful, religious men, de- 
sirous to know the truth, yearning to see into the deep, 
inner facts of being, anxious to discover our obligations 
as subjects of the King of Kings, we had better dispense 
with abstractions and figures, and speak in the simple 
utterances of a pious heart. To-day, as we seek to re- 
alize our obligations to Him who has made us, blessed 
us, and brought us where we now stand to-day, we 
must have something else to talk about than Logic 
and Laws. 

In this world of sin, temptation, trial, we need all the 
motives which have any power to impel us toward God. 
Of these, gratitude is at once one of the strongest and 
most elevated. Henry Rogers has called attention to 
the fact that this is the great instrumental feeling which 
Christianity employs in restoring man to God ; and he 
observes that gratitude for past good is a stronger mo- 
tive than the hope of future good can possibly be. Now, 
gratitude is possible only in view of personal benefi- 
cence. You can not manifest gratitude towards any 
impersonal thing or force. The tree which bears nu- 
tritious and delightful fruit, the fountain which sends 
forth pure and refreshing waters, the sun which radiates 
light, each is a benefactor and its benefactions are in- 
valuable, but they excite no gratitude. It is the same 
with a force or a law. The law which produces the 






SERMONS. ' 239 

succession of seasons is a most beneficent law, but 
no one thinks of thanking it. No shipwrecked mari- 
ner, saved by clinging to a floating plank, or by swim- 
ming ashore, dreams of returning praise to the Law 
of Specific Gravity, although he owes his life to it. No 
people delivered from oppression, or victorious over 
their enemies, have been known to erect temples or al- 
tars, or votive tablets to the Logic of Events. But let 
men, who have been delivered from some great calam- 
ity, or visited by some benediction of Providence, be 
told, ' ' It was God who saved you : It was God who 
visited you !" and let them feel that it was indeed God, 
and gratitude, reverence and love will flow forth as 
spontaneously as song from a cheerful heart. In all 
the benefactions, therefore, which as a people we enjoy 
to-day, in all the reasons for gratitude, which we are 
about to consider, let us seek to discern the gentle and 
Opulent Hand, the warm, living, loving Heart of our 
ever near, ever gracious Father. The great, central 
theme of gratitude which I would present to-day is 
Progress, the growth of the American Nation as the re- 
sult of our National trial, that growth as indicated by 
our present condition and character, compared with our 
condition and character at the time when our trial 
began. 

And first of all, and as lying at the very root of our 
national growth, I would mention the progress which 
has been made in the feeling of nationality, in the 
sense of our responsibility to maintain our national life. 
This fact of nationality has indeed been doubted. But 
this was in itself a terrible witness to the truth that 
whether or not we are one nation, at least we ought to 
be one. The mournful spectacle here exhibited to the 
world, of two large sections of a continent, separated 
by no frowning and impassable barriers, subject to no 



240 LLEWELYN I0AN EVANS. 

such differences of climate and production of physical 
resources and conditions, as would necessitate their 
population by distinct races of men, but bound together 
rather by links subtle as air or dew, and yet strong as 
the everlasting mountains, — the spectacle of two people, 
two for the time being, speaking the same language, 
sprung from a common ancestry, long subject to the 
same government, identified in their main interests and 
pursuits, possessed essentially of the same physical and 
mental characteristics, nurtured by the same literature, 
science, art, religion, — the spectacle of two such peo- 
ple, making deadly war on each other, putting in the 
field armies, which for magnitude and military equip- 
ment have never been equalled, such a spectacle is itself 
a most overwhelming argument that there ought to be 
here but one American nation, that the interests of 
peace, of humanity, and of progress demand that there 
should be but one. For if a war so vast, so fierce, so 
desolating, could arise once within the limits of the 
same national fold, what must be the horrors of the 
continuous and inevitable wars which must arise be- 
tween two distinct nations, occupying the same relative 
positions, each more numerous, more powerful, better 
prepared for war, than was either section at the outset 
of this contest, as would certainly be the case in a few 
generations, by the simple force of progress? But the 
same witness testifies that there is a nation here, that 
there is also a clear recognition of the necessity of 
national union, that there is in some degree the spirit 
of a just national pride, and of a broad national love, 
that there is a God's voice in the heart of the people — 
we must be one and indivisible. 

Some have agreed that the secession from the Union 
of so many States, the demand for separation of so 
many millions, the contribution of so much money and 



SERMONS. 241 

treasure, and the levying of such large armies to en- 
force separation, and the bitterness and fierce determi- 
nation with which that object is pursued, are proof 
positive that the nation has been divided, that hence- 
forth we must be two. — By the same process it may 
be argued, and yet more justly and powerfully, that the 
contrary voice of a great majority of the people, the 
decision of more than twice as many millions that the 
nation is one, their determination that it shall not be 
divided, the contribution of vaster sums of money, and 
the raising of larger armies to maintain the unity of the 
nation, are proof positive and irrefragable that we are 
one, and that no schemes of designing men, no con- 
spiracies of a spurious and corrupt aristocracy, built up 
on the enslavement of men, no temporary madness on 
the part of deluded multitudes, led astray by ignorance 
and inflamed prejudice, shall be allowed to put asunder 
what God has joined together. Never since the time 
when this nation first asserted and established its inde- 
pendence, never since the days when the Father of his 
country addressed to the people those noble and pres-- 
cient words of warning in which he portrayed the evils 
of dissolution, never certainly during these later years 
of political deterioration — during which the nation's pride 
seemed to slumber, while " Union" had fallen to be the 
watchword of scheming men, a veil behind which they 
concocted plots against Union and Liberty — has the 
idea, the fact of nationality shone forth in these United 
States with more majestic glory than since this great 
reawakening of the nation to a sense of its honor and 
its right. Not only has the war revealed and proved 
this nationality, it has enlarged and exalted it, given it 
intelligence, consistency and strength. The assertion 
which has been made of the principle, the clearness 
with which the necessity of the fact has been demon- 



242 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

strated, the sacrifices which have been made to sustain 
it, have endeared it more than ever to all hearts, and 
given it a hold upon them, such as it "never had before. 
Never since its birth has the American nation been 
more truly a nation than it is to-day. 

But how was it when this trial was sent upon us? 
Was this sense of nationality always as deep and un- 
compromising as it has now become? Let me ask you, 
have you always felt the same assurance of the fact, 
and the same confidence in the reality of this national 
life as you now feel? Look back a little, and see: 
not to the time when the Union of the States was the 
dream of a dozing and lethargic peace, or the cant of 
demagogues, but to those later and darker hours that 
have passed since the thunder which smote on Sumter 
first startled us out of our dreams, to those terrible 
crises during which the faith of the nation has been so 
severely tried: — Ah! do you not remember how at the 
first outbreak of the rebellion, when State after State 
was passing its ordinance of secession, and when a fee- 
ble and faithless administration took no measures to 
stay the plague, but ministered to it the rather, men 
looked with pale fear into each other's faces, as the fate 
of the nation hung trembling in the balance, trembling, 
because so rampant and defiant was treason, that it was 
doubtful whether the nation had enough patriotism left to 
strike treason a blow that might send it reeling to its lair? 
Do you not remember how, yet later, after the nation 
had been committed to war, after it had drawn the 
sword to maintain its sovereignty, after the thunder of 
a thousand cannon had proclaimed that armed rebellion 
must be crushed by the nation's strong right arm, after 
tens of thousands of the noblest and bravest of our 
brethren had sealed that declaration with their blood, — 
how that, after all this, scarcely one year ago, the same 






SERMONS. 243 

cruel doubt returned, the same anxious questioning: 
Is there enough of pure patriotism to carry this war 
through? and how that it seemed once again as though 
we must answer, No ! Treason is stronger than Loyalty, 
and more cunning than Loyalty is wise; there is not 
enough of the spirit and love of country to save the 
nation ! Strange that it should have been so, and no 
less mournful than strange ! For who does not know 
that in all lands, in all ages, among all tribes and 
kindreds, and tongues, the instinct of nationality, the 
love of country, the sentiment of loyalty, has been 
recognized, as one of the most profound, one of the 
most commanding, one of the most exalted principles 
of a nation? Philosophers have loved to praise it; 
poets have loved to sing it; historians have loved to 
describe it; heroes have loved to die for it. It has 
been the soul of many of the most honorable achieve- 
ments of courage and endurance recorded in history; 
it has been the moving power in many of the no- 
blest movements by which the progress of the race 
has been furthered ; it has been the inspiration of 
many of the loftiest strains of eloquence, of the 
grandest deeds of daring and self-sacrifice which the 
world has ever known. First our God ! next our 
Country ! Such has been the battle-cry of hero-souls 
in every age. How, then, came it to pass, that in this 
land so highly favored, in this American heart, with its 
many just, brave, and generous instincts, in this Amer- 
ican nation, possessed of so many of the highest and 
most promising attributes of national life and glory, 
the privilege of a nation to claim the undivided alle- 
giance of all, should have been not only doubted, but 
denied ; that here there should have been found in some 
quarters, a haughty, fierce, and disdainful rejection of 
national obligations, and in others but a cold, heartless, 



244 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

scarcely concealed indifference to the same ? What have 
been the causes of this debasement of national feeling? 
First of all, and most radical of all, the spirit of worid- 
liness, selfishness, materialism which has grown up to 
such strength and magnitude all over the land, which 
had subordinated everything to itself, which was dis- 
posed to sacrifice every interest, principle, and respon- 
sibility to its own requirements, which compelled all 
considerations of public justice and morality to yield to 
the claims of self-interest. 

Secondly : the corrupting, destructive spirit of slav- 
ery, which, actuated by an ambition that can only be 
characterized as infernal, and finding in the prevalent 
spirit of materialism a convenient and willing instru- 
ment to serve its ends, succeeded by its haughty in- 
solence, its overweening pride of power, its despotic 
sway over timid, time-serving, self-seeking men and 
parties, its dangerous sophistries and enervating false- 
hoods in politics, morals, and religion, in producing 
sectional alienation and strife, a spirit of insubordination 
against rightful authority, a disregard of sacred, civil 
and moral obligations, the systematic corruption of 
public men, the prostitution of official power to its 
ambitious schemes, the poisoning of public sentiment, 
a widespread apostasy from the principles and policy 
of the founders of the Republic, a mournful departure 
from the spirit which gave birth to the nation, and the 
loss of that respect for manhood, and of that generous 
conception of liberty, which is the very soul of life to 
a republic. Lastly: the baneful influence of a false 
idea of loyalty, invented by a sagacity which can only 
be characterized as satanic, which, foreseeing the time 
when the antagonism of liberty and slavery must issue, 
if not in the total subjugation of one, then in their 
separation, cunningly prepared for that separation by 






SERMONS. 245 

the diligent inculcation of the theory of State Sover- 
eignty, of the right of each State to the supreme alle- 
giance of its citizens, a theory utterly subversive of all 
true nationality, and wholly fatal to that higher loyalty, 
which rising above all territorial limitations and all sec- 
ondary jurisdictions, reaches upward to that grand, 
dominant, primary Sovereignty, which embraces all 
that is signified in the word Nation, which is co-ordi- 
nate and co-extensive with all that an American should 
mean, with all that every true American does mean, 
when he says, My Country. 

And now, to what a fearful extent these causes com- 
bined had enfeebled, and all but destroyed the spirit 
of nationality, let this war testify. How widely spread, 
and how powerful that fatal heresy which has carried 
out of the Union one-third of the States which com- 
posed it. How many a noble spirit, a Zollicoffer, a 
Johnson, a Jackson, has been seduced by it from his 
lawful allegiance, and led into the dishonored grave of a 
traitor. What embarrassments has the same fallacy, 
perverting the public sentiment of our own North, 
thrown in the- way of the Government in the successful 
suppression of the revolt, what hindrances it has occa- 
sioned, what vacillation, what delays ! And worse than 
all, and most shameful of all, how deeply and widely 
had the foul and fatal virus of Slavery tainted the body 
politic, and paralyzed whatever was sound and healthy 
therein, when such a war as this, for such a cause, had 
become possible. What a sad and terrible confession 
to make, that in this government calling itself free, 
claiming to be the example and champion of liberty 
among the nations of the earth, founded in the declar- 
ation, that all men who bear the image of God are 
created free, created each with the inalienable right 
to himself, a right in which he is the equal of all 



246 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

others, that in this model republic, where every throb 
of the nation's brain should be liberty, where every 
throb of the nation's heart should be liberty, where ev- 
ery tramp of the nation's footsteps should sound forth 
liberty, that here should have existed a purpose so foul, 
so fell, so damning, to stamp forever on the national es- 
cutcheon the black stain of slavery; that here should 
have been hatched a conspiracy so extensive and powerful 
as to consummate that nefarious design at the cost of war 
and disruption, that this monster curse should have 
been caressed and nurtured, until in the pride of its 
strength and the wildness of its passion, it should seize 
on the nation's heart and seek to crush out its life, so 
that it requires the utmost straining of the nation's 
energies to shake it off, and dash it to destruction ! 

What a mournful evidence of the poverty into which 
the spirit of nationality among us had sunk, that when 
the question had become ; Which shall perish, the Nation 
or Human Slavery? there should have been found, not 
millions, not even thousands, but any, to say, " Let the 
nation be rent in twain, sooner than that a being, made 
in the image of God, should have the brand of a chattel 
taken from his brow! Let the nation be overthrown 
from top-stone to corner-stone, sooner than that a free 
spirit, endowed with the heritage of immortality, should 
have its fetters burst ! Let the nation's life be extin- 
guished in an ocean of blood, sooner than that a system 
which makes man a brute, which annuls the sacredness 
of marriage, which makes motherhood a mockery, 
which makes merchandise of God's children, which 
buys and sells Jesus Christ in the market-place, for it 
buys and sells his brethren, should even be impaired!" 

My countrymen ! had it been a system fraught with 
physical, intellectual, and social advantages to the in- 
habitants of this Continent, which had come into an- 






SERMONS. 247 

tagonism with the perpetuity of this nation, had it 
been an institution transmitted for generations from 
fathers to children, fragrant with patriarchal benedic- 
tions, sweet with sacred memories of the " storied past" 
clustering about it, endeared with the hallowed associa- 
tions of names embalmed in a nation's reverence, con- 
secrated by the tear-baptisms, and the prayer-baptisms 
of ages, there ought still to have been a spirit of 
nationality in this people, strong, brave, and stern 
enough to say, Before The Nation be allowed to wreck 
itself on that, let it be mined and blown into a myriad 
atoms ! But that when the life of a nation was put in 
peril by an institution, branded with the curse of Cain, 
infamous with the scorn of ages, sentenced to crouch 
like a leper outside of the gates of Christendom, be- 
smeared like the idol Moloch by the blood of men, 
women, and children, wrung out of them by the sting 
of the lash, and the fang of the blood-hound, vocal 
with the groans of a scourged, a tortured, an outraged 
humanity, yea, vocal with groans never heard on earth, 
audible only to the ears of a God of Infinite Justice, the 
groans which would have been uttered, had not the man- 
hood of the victims been benumbed, paralyzed, crushed, 
blighted with a curse worse than death,— that then the 
question should have been raised even, in a land calling 
itself free, in a land calling itself Christian : which shall 
live, The Nation or The Curse ? that when it was raised, 
there should have been found multitudes, not only in 
those States which gloried in the shame of human bond- 
age, but in States calling themselves free, and which 
were free indeed from the immediate presence of the 
evil, although not from its curse, — multitudes ready to 
say, Perish the Nation, but let Slavery live !— this was 
a sight most astounding, most shameful, most humili- 
ating ! But, God be praised ! to-day the shame is at 



248 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

least felt; the humiliation has issued, we trust, in hu- 
mility and repentance ; the retribution which has over- 
taken us is felt to be just ; the punishment which God 
is inflicting on us has been mercifully over-ruled to the 
re-awakening of the nation's conscience, and of the 
nation's life. We shudder as we think how near we 
came to the betraying of the Divine trust committed to 
us. For we have learned, and the fires of war have 
burned the conviction into our souls, that a nation's 
life is a trust as sacred as that of the individual, not 
to say, more sacred. Woe be to the nation which 
does not realize the worth of its life, which becomes 
indifferent to its mission, which abdicates its God-given 
prerogatives ! Woe be to the nation, which, by its 
effeminacy, its luxury, its folly, its corruption, becomes 
incapable of sustaining its claims to be a member of 
God's family of nations ! Woe be to the nation, which 
dies by its own hand ! Such nations there have been 
in the world. Their corpses lie on its highway to-day. 
The curse of heaven lies on the shrunken, blighted, 
bedwarfed, inane phantasms which represent them. 
They were guilty of self-murder ; and the suicide among 
nations is a criminal in the sight of God, no less than 
the suicide among men. Who can doubt that were 
this nation to consent to its disruption, the curse of 
the crime would rest on its fragments ? 

Will any one pretend that the disintegration of this 
republic into diverse confederacies and sovereignties, 
would not impair the essential nationality of the peo- 
ple, any more than a diversity of governments has 
obliterated the German nationality or the Italian? But 
who does not know, that where, as among the Ger- 
mans and Italians, there is a real underlying basis of 
nationality, the irresistible tendency is toward unity, 
and that all present division is regarded as a calamity? 






SERMONS. 249 

Or will any one say, that it is a fallacy to assume that 
we are but one nation, that in reality we are already 
two, and that the success of the rebellion would be 
only the logical and historical development of that 
which already lies in the nature of things? A greater 
fallacy than that, or one whose absurdity were more 
ridiculous, if its malignity did not make it odious, it is 
difficult to conceive. When we behold the continent — 
home of the nation, veined as it is with rivers, and 
ribbed with mountain-ridges, w r hich, reaching from the 
winter to the summer zone, speak of no Northern 
nation and no Southern, but only of one American na- 
tion — When we look at our past history as a people, 
our education in one grand world-school, our fraternal 
intercourse and commingling, which has been going on 
now for two centuries without a suspicion of diverse 
nationalisms having been entertained for a moment, 
until of late the interests of Slavery had made the 
fiction necessary — When we consider the futility of all 
the arguments employed to prove the existence of an- 
tagonistic nationalities, arguments, which, if they have 
any force, w r ould split up and splinter every people on 
the face of the globe — When to all this we add the 
prospect which presents itself, if two or more nation- 
alities be allowed, alike and nearly equal in intelli- 
gence, prowess, wealth, energy and independence, 
especially if, at the same time, unlike and divergent in 
their social system, their political aspirations, their 
national aims, in any of those points which would alone 
necessitate or justify their division, the prospect of 
collisions, jealousies, misunderstandings, enmities and 
incessant wars — When we contemplate all this, the 
idea that God has made us two, or many, or that it is 
his desire that we should become two, or many, is both 
incredible, and repulsive. God forgive us that the con- 



250 LLEWELYN IO'AN EVANS. 

viction of this was too feeble to prevent even the 
outbreak of a war so gigantic and calamitous ; but God 
also be praised that this very war has so deepened and 
strengthened that conviction, that hereafter, when the 
supremacy of our nationality shall have been triumph- 
antly maintained, any other attempt to overthrow it 
will be for ages, yea, we devoutly believe, forever 
an impossibility. Let all the people thank the Most 
High, that to-day, as never before, to-day, notwith- 
standing the prevalence of civil war, the nation is a 
reality; that henceforth, no such phantom as a Virgin- 
ian nationality, or a Carolinian, or a Georgian, shall be 
allowed for a moment to eclipse this great, bright, solar 
fact of the American nationality, destined to become 
an even brighter and more blessed reality, to illuminate 
and bless this earth ; that henceforth it will be the rec- 
ognized and solemn duty of all American citizens to 
cherish and cultivate to greater intensity and purity, the 
love of country, to bring into clearer and fuller light 
the consciousness of our nationality, to guard with 
more sacred jealousy that oneness of destiny and of 
glory, which God has given to be our inheritance. 

But we have a still further cause of gratitude in the 
fact, that not only has progress been made in the feeling 
of nationality, but that the Divine idea of that nationality 
is more clearly understood, more universally recog- 
nized, and more faithfully carried out than perhaps ever 
before. 

Assuming it as established that God has given us a 
nationality, the question arises, why ? To what end ? 
There is a national as well as a personal individuality, 
distinctly impressed by the power of God. National 
organisms have their part to perform in the develop- 
ment of the world, as personal organisms have in the 
development of nations. And without attempting to 



SERMONS. 251 

press the analogy too far, or to indulge in over-refine- 
ment of speculation, it may safely be assumed, for all 
history shows it to be true, that the leading nationali- 
ties of earth, those which exert a controling influence 
in the world's development, have a distinct and import- 
ant mission entrusted to each by God. Thus, to Greece 
was assigned the mission of asserting the supremacy 
of mind over matter, of intellectual over brute force, 
of science and art over animalism m and barbarism. 
To Rome was assigned the mission of asserting the 
superiority of intelligent self-controling will, of discip- 
lined and consolidated civilization, involving the supre- 
macy of law, and the subordination of the one to the all, 
whether over the intelligent, undisciplined energy of 
barbarism, or over the more effeminate civilization, the 
frivolous culture without energy, the intelligence with- 
out will, the self-assertion without self-restraint of de- 
generate Greece. To the Saracen it was given to put 
forth the dignity and power of simple faith, its supre- 
macy over the blind superstition of oriental heathenism, 
over the enervate intellectualism of Greece, or even over 
the more disciplined and practical, but latterly the less 
spiritual and earnest power of Rome. Whenever any 
nation proves false to the Divine Idea entrusted to it, 
God prepares its fall. 

Thus, when Greece forgot its misson, and made the 
intellectual serve the physical, when culture became 
the slave of sense, when science became sophistry, and 
art the handmaid of luxury and corruption, Greece 
fell. When Rome, intoxicated with success, and mad- 
dened with pride, lost its power of self-restraint and 
self-discipline, used its energies as the instruments of 
self-aggrandizement and the ministers of a debased 
materialism, forgot the sanctity of lav/, and the para- 
mount claims of the common weal, Rome fell. When 



252 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

the Saracen lost his simple faith, and sank into a 
sensualism yet lower than that of the nations which 
he had conquered, he too, became a nonentity in his- 
tory. The law is universal and unfailing. It applies to 
the nations of to-day as well as to those of the past. 
Yea, and it behooves us to confess to-day, that it is 
because this American nation has been unfaithful to its 
trust, because it has departed from its Divine Idea, that 
God is now punishing it ; and although he gives us 
strong encourage'ment to believe that he does not now 
seek its total overthrow, it is at least his manifest pur- 
pose to chastise it, that through chastisement it may 
be brought to renew its consecration, and to enter on 
that high service to which it is called, with greater dili- 
gence and conscientiousness than heretofore. We are 
thus summoned to a consideration of the mission of the 
American nation. 

On the very threshhold of our inquiry into this sub- 
ject, we are confronted with the spirit of materialism, 
which has undertaken to decide this question from the 
lowest of all standpoints, by the shortest and narrowest 
of all standards, and which has thus contributed, in no 
small degree, in bringing about that infidelity to its 
trust of which God now accuses the Nation. And this 
has been its language : "The American Nation has 
been organized to furnish to the world an example of 
wealth, prosperity, commercial greatness, industrial suc- 
cess. Behold a country rich in all natural resources, 
a continent of fertility, abounding in all the elements of 
power, whose products will ere long be adequate to supply 
the demands of civilization from the rising of the sun to 
the going down of the same. See a land, where every 
man, if he has only the requisite tact, energy and pru- 
dence, may acquire a fortune. Behold a people inge- 
nious, quick witted, enterprising, ever ready to avail 



SERMONS. 253 

themselves of whatever tends to insure success. See 
what they have already accomplished. Wildernesses 
have been transformed into gardens. The place which 
is to-day the haunt of the savage, is to-morrow the seat 
of empire. Cities spring up as by enchantment. Riv- 
ers, which yesterday rolled their majestic course amid 
the unbroken silence of nature, are to-day ploughed by 
the keel of the steamship. The scream of the fire-car 
sweeps over the prairie, which resounded but now with 
the tramp of the buffalo. The roaring of machinery, 
the hum of trade, the sounds of husbandry, the lowing 
of cattle on a thousand hills, echoed and re-echoed from 
shore to shore, mingle with the harmonies of its East- 
ern and Western Oceans. How great a Nation is this, 
whose commerce whitens the seas, whose industry 
prints its footsteps all over the continent, whose innu- 
merable treasuries overflow with precious stores !" How 
often has this spirit confronted us? How often during 
the days of our peace were these proud boastings heard, 
made not in the spirit of gratitude to the Giver of all 
good, not in the lofty consciousness of a grand moral 
destiny, to which all this wealth and power might be 
made subservient, but in a spirit which regarded the 
prosecution of these material ends, the development and 
accumulation of these physical resources as the be-all 
and the end-all of our national life. 

Is it not true, that, however it may be now, until 
lately, until the stern teachings of war had shown us 
the shallowness and unworthiness of our views, the Na- 
tion had become, in the popular conception, little else 
than a vast co-partnership, organized on the lowest ma- 
terial basis : — a great Mutual Insurance Company, to 
protect and to advance the property interests of its 
members ? Was it not too commonly the case, that the 
worth of the Union was estimated by its financial value 



254 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

rather than by any higher standard of worth ? But there 
is a somewhat higher idea of the American nationality 
which, combining itself with that material idea just de- 
scribed, was, perhaps, the prevalent idea among the 
mass of intelligent and active American citizens almost 
down to the present moment, which yet exerts a po- 
tent sv/ay over large multitudes. This, we may call 
the Political Idea. The characteristic of this idea is that 
it gives prominence to the political significance of the 
State, as a fact of more perfect accomplishment here 
than elsewhere. It regards the American continent as 
a theater for the most satisfactory solution of the great 
problem of government, the adjustments of the rights, 
privileges and obligations of men as citizens, as free sub- 
jects of law. This is undoubtedly a condition of the 
Divine Idea of our Nationality, an integral element of 
its development: but is it all? Is there nothing higher 
in that idea than the expression of a political formula, 
the establishment of a governmental system, distin- 
guished by the harmony and equipoise of its component 
forces? This, indeed, were no trifling achievement: it 
were one of vast consequence and momentous results. 
But that we may the more clearly see the reason which 
we have for gratitude in the prevalence at length of a 
yet nobler view of our people, let us look for a moment 
at some of the practical results of regarding the pro- 
duction of a political system as the highest function of 
American Nationality. Some of those results are these : 
the idea of citizenship has, in great measure, eclipsed 
the idea of manhood ; the claims of the State have been 
too often stated and enforced without due respect to 
the claims of humanity : the idea of Law has too far 
merged itself into that of the Popular Will, and has 
thus lost the attributes of fixity and authority : Politics 
has lorded it over Morality : the Nation has become 



SERMONS. 255 

secondary to the State, whereas the State ought to be 
the servant of the Nation. 

What next? There has resulted the diminution of 
reverence for law, as a thing altogether in our own 
hands, capable of being changed and moulded at will ; 
the degeneracy of politics into a trade ; the absorption 
of the nation's energies and the exhaustion of its pas- 
sions in exciting political contests ; the ascendency of 
party spirit, and the substitution of the claims of party 
for the claims of country; the politicalization of the two 
great intellectual powers of the land, the Rostrum and 
the Press, and their consequent degradation ; the degra- 
dation of the Rostrum by lowering it to the vulgar tastes 
and prejudices of the rabble; the degradation of the 
Press by making it the organ of sophistry, vituperation, 
and falsehood. — And now mark how God is punishing 
us for this. In consequence of this lack of genuine 
heartfelt reverence for law, in consequence of the dispo- 
sition to regard it merely as the breath of a popular im- 
pulse, which another breath may dissipate, and not as 
the authoritative determination of the enlightened Reason 
and Conscience, not as the well-considered expression of 
that which must be, and which should endure ; in con- 
sequence of this surrender of the State to political traders 
and tricksters, in consequence of this subordination of 
manhood to political ends and uses; in consequence of 
the prevalent servility to party ; in consequence of the 
dishonest expedients adopted to secure partizan success ; 
in consequence of the lying spirit, which has so largely 
possessed the platform and the press; in consequence 
of the disproportionate accumulation of the intellectual 
and emotional life of the nation in political channels, — 
what have we seen? We have seen the authority of the 
Supreme Lav/ of the land scornfully and defiantly repu- 
diated ; we have seen the principle and the right of an- 



256 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

archy unblushingly proclaimed; we have seen political 
machinery, measures, and agencies, made the instru- 
ments of the nation's destruction ; we have seen nation- 
ality sacrificed to sectionalism ; we have seen the revela- 
tions of the dishonesty of our* public officials, and the 
corruptions of our political life held up to the contempt 
of the world ; we have seen this momentous conflict 
scornfully described as a disgraceful political squabble ; 
we have seen the utterances of our public men, the 
representations of our orators, and the statements of our 
press, contemptuously tossed aside as unworthy of cre- 
dence, and the American people denounced as unvera- 
cious, unscrupulous, dishonest. — This is the penalty 
which we must pay to-day ; and v/ho can deny that it 
is in great part merited? And yet these consequences 
are the direct, not to say the legitimate outgrowth of 
that political idea of our nationality, which has so ex- 
tensively prevailed. At least we may hope, that with 
the predominance of a higher idea, and with the conse- 
cration of the nation to a nobler aim, these evils will 
gradually diminish. And it is to-day a cause of the 
deepest gratitude that the war has brought this higher 
idea, this nobler aim, in the clearest light before us. 

The problems which it has brought with it have 
forced upon us a more thorough and profound investi- 
gation of the providential mission of the American 
People. — It has compelled us to ask : Of what signifi- 
cance is this struggle, if something higher is not involved 
in it than the success of a political experiment ? Is it 
worth the tremendous sacrifice which it demands, if 
nothing else is to come out of it than the determination 
of mere political issues? If the American People has 
no higher mission than to build and run a political ma- 
chine, why go to war to stop the building and running 
of another such machine? What is the Unseen Impulse 



SERMONS. 257 

which drives this nation, almost in despite of itself, into 
a war of such magnitude, to prevent disruption? What 
is that stern inexorable necessity, which compels it to 
maintain at every cost and hazard the proclamation of 
its original and indissoluble unity ? What is that Future, 
that glorious destiny, toward which an invisible Hand 
beckons it onward through the Red Sea of blood ? 
These are questions, through the solution of which, 
forced upon it by a wise and merciful Providence, the 
Nation has at length been educated into a higher idea 
than it has ever before seriously and generally realized, 
of its historical world-mission. 

What, then, is the mission of the American Nation ? 
I answer, to vindicate the idea of manhood in its full- 
ness and integrity ; manhood, as the basis of individual 
freedom, of social order, of national growth ; manhood, 
as the fountain of wisdom, the depositary of justice, the 
inheritor of all privilege and right. Ours is the first 
nationality in the history of the world, w ; hich has made 
the assertion of this Divine Fact its definite aim. Other 
nations have contributed, doubtless, to its development, 
but no other has ever felt itself summoned to assume 
the vindication of this idea, as its especial function. 
The great declaratory charter of its rights, the immortal 
inaugural in which it first enunciated to the world its 
inspiring idea, rests on the fundamental truth, that all 
men are in God's idea free. Manhood, it affirms, is the 
grand fact of social and individual life. It is the crown 
of all creaturely development. It is the goal of all 
history. Heaven and earth are ordained for it. Gov- 
ernment is made for man, not man for government. 
All institutions, laws, liberties, rights, penalties, re- 
wards, are shaped to the production of this result. It 
is superior to all its accidents. Its claims and preroga- 
tives are to be vindicated against every foe, whether 



258 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

against the brute force which would crush it; or against 
the pride of rank, which would scorn it; or against the 
selfishness of wealth, which would traffic in it ; or against 
the bigotry of caste, which would ostracize it ; or against 
the tyranny of the mob, which would outrage it. 
A commonwealth of men, founded on the attributes 
of manhood, on freedom, virtue, intelligence, self- 
respect, self-control, independence — such is the ideal 
American Commonwealth. A grander idea was never 
given to any people to cherish and to actualize. It is 
an axe which strikes at the root of the poison-trees, 
by which humanity has been overshadowed, and its 
beauty blighted. It is a fire which goes forth to burn 
the accumulated mass of usurpation and wrong, beneath 
which the true life of manhood has been buried. It 
is an electric power which vibrates in the sky, clears 
the overhanging clouds that darken the world, and, 
albeit in storm, purges the atmosphere of its deadly 
miasmas. To other nations it has been granted to 
vindicate this or that attribute of manhood, but to ours 
it has been granted to vindicate its Divine Idea in its 
completeness, to be the Angel flying in the midst of 
the heavens, proclaiming over sea and land this Eternal 
Evangel of Manhood. It is the advocate of personal 
independence; the apostle of individual worth. It 
throws its heavenly aegis around man, saying: "Here 
is the image of God, and it shall be sacred forever." 
It inculcates faith in man, without which no progress, 
no heroic achievement is possible. It proclaims the 
principle of self-government, to-wit: that a people can 
administer its own affairs, by virtue of its own inherent 
power, wisdom, justice, benevolence, on the basis of 
universal right, and guided by the Eternal Spirit, 
whose inspiration is ever present in all the movements 
of humanity; that men in the light of the intelligence, 






SERMONS. 259 

and under the promptings of the conscience, which 
God has given them, can discern and ordain the best 
laws for their government ; that a nation of men, bound 
together by the common recognition of human rights, 
and by the common law of justice and liberty, is a 
better executor of the trusts committed to it, than any 
man, or class, or order, who may undertake their ad- 
ministration. Of this system, this National Idea, Man- 
hood is the central pillar. It is the keystone of the 
arch. Take it away, and all must fall to ruin. Take 
it away, and the American Republic is a body without 
a soul, a corpse. Take it away, and the history of 
this people, the dealings of Providence with them, 
become a mystery, which time in its whole course will 
scarcely be able to solve. Take it away, and American 
Nationality becomes the baseless fabric of a vision. 
This is the Idea of that Nationality, grander, indeed, 
in its present development than in its first germs. 

And manifestly, to provide for this idea a fitting 
theatre of development, God has given it a continent, 
a world, for ages shrouded in the darkness of the Un- 
known Mystery which haunted the ancient world from 
beyond the earth-surrounding ocean-river, and then 
brought to light in the fulness of time, to receive and 
nurture the seed of liberty: a continent lying midway 
betwixt the extreme East and the extreme West of yon 
old world, and thus so situated as to receive and com- 
municate the throbbing currents of international life ; a 
continent, physically the oldest, historically the newest, 
and geographically the most central, built, one would 
say, on purpose to be the heart of the world ; a conti- 
nent on which the Almighty has stamped Diversity in 
Unity, Oneness in Variety, as though expressly to 
contribute to the most varied and manifold development 
of the one, but multitudinous nation whom his Provi- 



260 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

dence had ordained to inhabit it. And, manifestly, 
still further to contribute to the growth of this grand 
organic nationality, God has been bringing and still 
is bringing hither the offspring of all the leading and 
vital nationalities of the old world, their life, their active 
forces, their brain, blood, bone, and sinew, their ideas, 
powers, and characteristics, all the elements which time 
has engrafted on them, and, fusing them together in this 
great world-crucible, is producing a unitary result in na- 
tional life and character, the like of which has never else- 
where been seen, and could under no other circum- 
stances be produced. And why? Manifestly again, 
to organize here a nationality which should be the 
richest and ripest fruit of all ages and lands ; a com- 
monwealth answering to Milton's sublime definition, 
"One huge Christian personage, one mighty growth 
and stature of an honest man, as big and compact in 
virtue as in body;" a Majestic Empire of Freedom 
and Fraternity, which might be for all the world, and 
for all time, the exponent of manhood in its broadest, 
freest, fullest development ; a beneficent Christian 
Power, qualified by its constitution, its education, and 
its animating spirit, to understand, to reach, to influ- 
ence, to lead, to elevate, to evangelize all the -nations 
of the earth. 

And it is because the rebellion of the South is a 
conspiracy against this hope, because it is an attempt 
to blast this future, to wrest from the American common- 
wealth its crown of glory, to pluck from the Queen- 
nation's brow her diadem of royalty, to blot out the 
stamp of unity which God has put on the land, to ren- 
der nugatory all the historical preparations which the 
past has furnished for the establishment here of a 
world-ruling, world-inspiring, world-sanctifying power, 
that the Nation has at length arisen in its Majesty, and 






SERMONS. 26 1 

uplifting its hand to the Eternal Throne, has sworn by 
him that sitteth upon it, and with the aid of his Omnip- 
otent' Arm, to crush it utterly and forever. 

At length it has become fully alive to its mission. 
And when it sees that Holy Mission warred upon, when 
it finds a minority rebelling against it, trampling with 
the heel of scorn on the Declaration by which the Na- 
tion's independence was secured, denouncing with bitter 
and contemptuous hatred the fundamental truth on which 
the Republic was built, denying with fierce disdain the 
sacred claims of manhood, pouring contumely on the 
image of Deity, seeking to rivet indissoluble fetters of 
bondage on souls whose liberty God came to proclaim 
and secure ; when it finds itself overwhelmed with a war 
so portentous, so devastating, so bitter in its fruits, a war 
inaugurated as a crusade against God's Idea of Man and 
in behalf of the Devil's Idea, which would make a 
man a thing, a soul a slave ; a war either to subvert 
all nationality or to wrest from the Nation its charter of 
life, to compel it to stultify all its past professions, all 
the labors, achievements and sacrifices of its fathers, to 
make it blind to the heavenly charms of freedom and 
the dignity of personality, to make it deaf to the celes- 
tial voice of Liberty, and the thunder tones of human 
progress, to make it dumb that it may not utter the 
sublime inspirations which sound from the battle-fields, 
whereon bleach the bones of the heroes, of the heroes 
of liberty and nationality from Marathon and Thermop- 
ylae down, and ring in every noble heart — when the 
Nation sees all this, its firm, unalterable resolution is : 
The Union — that Union which represents all that is sa- 
cred in our past, precious in our present, glorious in our 
future, — must be preserved: while the foe of our na- 
tionality, the destroyer of our brotherhood, that Wrong 
which represents whatever is most shameful in our past, 



262 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

tragic in our present, and fatal to our future, that curse, 
which would divide what God has joined, which would 
make weak what God has made strong, which would 
make that a power for injustice, which God meant to 
be a power for justice and liberty — must be destroyed. 
This, thank God, is the Nation's position to-day. It 
has taken us some time to reach it. Very tender has 
been our treatment of the great root-crime out of 
which our bitter woes have grown. Exceedingly 
cautious have we been lest we might seem to 
countenance the terrible charge of malignant enemies 
and hypocritical friends of the government, that this 
war is in any sense an assertion of the law and power 
of liberty. To be sure the war is primarily and fun- 
damentally to preserve the government, to maintain our 
nationality : but there has been, one might suppose, 
a very unnecessary degree of shrinking from the open 
declaration that it is to preserve a government, whose 
soul is liberty, that it is to maintain a nationality, 
whose grand mission it is to assert, within its sphere, 
and in all of its activities, the right of manhood. It 
required two years of suffering, of anxious, terrible toil, 
of costly, bloody sacrifice, to bring us to feel that our 
only salvation is in taking our position openly, firmly, 
immovably on the rock whereon our Fathers stood, in 
identifying ourselves with the Divine Idea, which is the 
core of our nationality, even the sacredness, the invio- 
lability, the Godlikeness of manhood. God be praised, 
at last we are there ! At last we are prepared to say, 
that liberty is the supreme law of the land, and that 
liberty is commensurate with manhood. This is to-day 
the voice of the Nation. And when I say Nation, 
I mean that spirit of nationality which is now so 
triumphantly marching on in the tramp of our armies, 
so majestically proclaiming itself in the suffrages of the 






SERMONS. 263 

people, so nobly embodying itself in the acts and 
declarations of the government. I mean whatever is 
sound, vigorous, and vital in the power, which even 
now dominant, will shortly reign supreme and alone. I 
mean, if you will have it so, the North. Yes ! the 
North is henceforth the Nation, by which I mean, that 
the civilization of the North, the institutions of the 
North, the policy of the North, the spirit of the North, 
are to be henceforth the civilization, the institutions, 
the policy, the spirit of the nation ; and that whatever 
is opposed thereto must and will cease, in part by force 
of law, in part by force of circumstance, in part by 
force of assimilation produced by a freer intercourse and 
a truer union. Hereafter our public men will know no 
North, no South, not for the old reason that all is South, 
but for the new reason that all is North : because from 
the Lakes to the Gulf the ideas, the education, the lib- 
erty, the progress of the North will bear sway unchal- 
lenged and unimpaired. 

Nor in this process will the South be lost. Far 
from it. It will receive new life. It will be transformed 
into a higher form of being. Whatever is corrupt, 
barbarous, un chivalrous, unrepublican, unchristian, hav- 
ing perished, then whatsoever is noble, generous, vital, 
exalted, will pass into the life-blood of the new-born 
Nation, to be an element of beauty and strength. It 
is charged that victory can only result in subjugation. 
Say rather in the liberation, the regeneration, the ele- 
vation of the South, its more perfect identification with 
the free Imperial Republic of the future. Then will 
the spectacle be seen of a grand homogeneous nation- 
ality, a noble Christian commonwealth, possessed by 
no demon of discord, bearing no brand of shame, drag- 
ging in its footsteps no clanking chain, leaving in its 
footprints no crushed or mangled emblem of divinity, 



264 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

but animated by one "soul of liberty, breathing one 
spirit of love, its brow shining with the light of that 
celestial commonwealth, whose union is perfect, its 
footsteps blossoming with peace, and life, and joy. 

We praise God to-day that the vision of this Future 
is granted unto us. We bless Him that with almost 
unclouded eyesight we can look to that joyful consum- 
mation. To-day we stand on Pisgah, and gaze at once 
backward along the course of our painful pilgrimage, 
and forward, to the rest which we trust awaits us, and 
thank God for the one and the other. As we look back, 
and see the wilderness through which we have fought 
our weary way, with its terrible trials, its hissing veno- 
mous serpents, its fields of carnage and desolation, as 
we look back with tearful eyes on the resting-places of 
the slain, the groans of the loved and honored brave, 
who have fallen in the strife, as we think how much we 
have been called on to bear, to suffer, to sacrifice, we 
can still thank God, who has been our pillar of cloud 
by day, and our pillar of fire by night ; who has been so 
patient with our murmurings, our unbelief, our longing 
after the flesh-pots of Egypt, our worshiping of the 
golden calf, our conspiracies of the congregation of 
Korah, and our compacts with Moab and Midian ; the 
God who has inspired our legislators and our rulers, 
given them patience, wisdom, courage to do what is 
right, and hearts in sympathy with the great heart of 
the People, and responsive to its wishes and determina- 
tions, and who through them, amid the thunder and 
lightning of battle, has given the Law of Liberty to 
the land ; the God who has led our armies, who has 
sustained the hearts of our brethren in the field, kept 
them from sinking under defeat, or from ever despair- 
ing of the Republic, filled them with a loyalty which 
cannot be shaken, with a courage which knows no fal- 



SERMONS. 265 

tering, with a patient endurance which nothing can tire, 
with a love of country which shrinks from no toil, no 
suffering, no sacrifice, to save her from dishonor; the 
God who after many sore trials, and bitter humiliations, 
has at length smiled on our arms, crowned them with 
victory, and through victory strengthened the resolution, 
born in adversity, to consecrate the Nation to liberty, 
the Union to humanity ; the God who has restrained 
the Nations of the Earth, whatever may have been their 
disposition, from falling on us in the hour of weakness, 
despoiling us of our most cherished prerogatives, and 
frustrating us in our endeavors to accomplish what we 
believe to be our chosen mission as a people ; the God 
who has done wondrously and gloriously, not only in- 
finitely beyond what we deserved, but immeasurably 
more than we have ever dared to hope for. We praise 
him as we look forward to the Land of Promise toward 
which he has been guiding us, and see it lying before 
us, resting under his broad bright smile, sparkling with 
the golden streams of prosperity, overflowing with the 
milk and honey of Learning and Art, rich in the wine 
of liberty, and waving like Lebanon with the never fa- 
ding, lordly crown of sovereign manhood. Our feet do 
not indeed quite touch it as yet. We have the Jordan 
yet to cross, the Canaanites yet to fight, and a long 
hard struggle perhaps with the lingering Philistines ; we 
have the work of organization, of reconstruction, of 
harmonization, to perform ; we have the battles and 
victories of Peace yet to win. 

But the God who has led us hither will lead us to 
the end. His arm is not yet asleep. ''Art thou not 
it that hath cut Rahab, and wounded the dragon? 
Art thou not it which hath dried the sea, the waters of 
the great deep ; that hath made the depths of the sea a 
way for the ransomed to pass over? " We thank Him, 



266 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

then, to-day, for the goodly prospect which expands 
before us, the glorious future which beckons us onward, 
glorious in its responsibilities as well as in its promises, 
in its duties as well as its hopes. We praise Him in 
behalf of that despised and oppressed race, who have 
bowed so long under the yoke of slavery, whose blood 
has so long cried from the earth for vengeance, who 
have waited so patiently and prayed so fervently for 
their deliverance from the house of bondage, that to all 
of them the day of their salvation is nigh, even at the 
door, that to thousands it has already come, that to 
hundreds it has been granted by rallying around the 
banner of freedom and nationality, by swearing to up- 
hold it, to save it from dishonor, and to follow it 
even unto death, and by vindicating their oath before 
the mouth of the cannon, at the point of the bayonet, 
and in the deadly trench, by doing all which brave 
men can dare or do in a noble cause, to show them- 
selves worthy of freedom, and deserving of a nation's 
gratitude and praise. 

We praise Him in behalf of those who have been 
summoned to make great and costly sacrifices for the 
country, for the assurance which they may enjoy that 
their sacrifices will not be in vain, that results have 
been already secured worth all the price which has 
been paid, and that those which we may hope will ere 
long be secured, transcend the most that we can give. 

We praise Him in behalf of the generations yet un- 
born, that they may hope to be spared the bitter cup 
of which we must drink, that they may reap the har- 
vest of beauty, of prosperity, of power, of progress, 
of joy, which we to-day sow in tears and blood ; that 
they may take warning by whatever in us has been un- 
wise, unworthy, unmanly, sinful; and inspired by what- 






SERMONS. 267 

ever our times have brought forth that is sagacious, 
honorable, heroic, just. 

We praise Him in behalf of the oppressed Nation- 
alities of Earth, that the expectations which they have 
so long centred on this Republic do not seem doomed 
to disappointment, that the example of self-government 
here presented is not to become a shadow and a mock- 
ery, that here they may always find a sympathizing 
Helper and Friend. 

We praise Him in behalf of all the free Nationalities 
of Earth, that here they may hope ever to find a 
counsellor and fellow-laborer, to aid in the great work 
of raising humanity to the enjoyment of its noblest 
prerogatives and privileges. 

We praise Him in behalf of the Church of Christ, 
that here may spring up a Missionary Nationality, 
which, by its central position, its commercial relations, 
its popular institutions, its spiritual as well as secular 
enterprise, its more richly constituted and freely devel- 
oped humanity, its vast resources, its training in the 
virtues of magnanimity, liberality, sympathy, philan- 
thropy (indestructibly engrafted on it, we pray, by 
this trial) will be prepared, beyond any other nation, 
to reach, to move, to civilize, and to Christianize the 
benighted nationalities of the globe, until that bright 
Millennial Day shall dawn, when universal humanity 
shall enter on the possession of its lasting heritage of 
liberty, truth, religion, love, when the great brother- 
hood of man shall bow together before the throne of 
our common Father, shall circle the Cross of our com- 
mon Redeemer, and strive in one love, for one faith, 
one character, one immortality. Then shall glory be 
to God in the highest, peace on earth, good will to 
men. 



XII. 

THE TESTS OF CHRISTIANITY. 

Ephesians 3 : 18. " May be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth 

and length and depth and height." 

In its intellectual aspects the age in which we live is 
wont to be charged as a critical age. As humanity ad- 
vances in intellectual power, the spirit of inquiry and 
personal independence becomes more strongly and 
generally developed. Men are less disposed than of 
old to be led by tradition, or lean on authority. They 
insist on testing whatsoever claims their acceptance. 
This is so especially in matters of religious faith. Chris- 
tianity itself is subjected to searching tests, and probed 
through and through. 

An impression seems to prevail in some quarters that 
Christianity is afraid of this trial, that it shrinks from 
these tests. Nothing can be more unfounded than this 
impression. Whatever a few timid souls here and there 
may have thought and said, whatever mistaken policy 
of proscription or persecution a benighted, corrupt, 
enervated church may sometimes have adopted, Chris- 
tianity itself, as represented by the faith of an intelligent, 
healthy, living church, has ever welcomed the fullest, 
most searching examination of its claims. Indeed, it 
is one great duty of the advocates of Christianity to 
hold it up to this inspection, to help men in applying to 
(268) 






SERMONS. 269 

it whatever tests are in themselves legitimate and ap- 
priate. 

It will be the aim of this discourse to aid in making 
an application of one such test to Christianity, as we 
understand it. This test is a quality not very easily 
defined in a single term, for which no single term is in 
the nature of the case altogether adequate, and which 
can not be better described, perhaps, than by that group 
of terms in which Paul in the text describes the Re- 
demptive Love of Christ, when he prays that the Ephe- 
sians may be able to know and comprehend what is the 
breadth, and length and depth and height. 

I assume now, as a fundamental axiom, self-evident 
to every reflecting mind, that a trustworthy system of 
truth, and especially a true science of Divine things, 
must possess these properties, spiritually interpreted, of 
breadth, length, depth and height : that is to say, it 
must have fulness, richness, (expansiveness,) compre- 
hensiveness, manifoldness. It must be broad and long 
and deep and high, full and inexhaustible. It must 
have, of course, other qualities besides these, such as 
clearness, consistency, unity, practical utility, and the 
like : but these qualities being presupposed, it may be 
safely laid down that that system has the greatest 
antecedent probability in its favor, which is largest in its 
contents, widest in its range, most manifold in its 
relations, most inspiring in its power, most enriching in 
its contributions to the higher life of the soul. That 
representation of the world of spiritual facts and Di- 
vine realities is most likely to be true, which gives 
one the widest scope of vision, whose horizon is broad- 
est, whose zenith is highest, whose heavens are 
most spacious, whose depths most abound in trea- 
sures of great price. That religion is most Divine 
which answers for us the most questions, which solves 



2J0 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

the most doubts, which fills the most wants, which 
touches the soul at most points, which opens most 
avenues of communication with God, whose revelation 
brings to light most sublimity and perfection, and bears 
the costliest freight of ' ' truths that wake to perish 
never." 

I shall not stop to argue at length in favor of this 
proposition. It is implied in the very being and con- 
stitution of man. Behold for a moment this product 
of Divine wisdom ! this being so fearfully and won- 
derfully made ! Look at the complexity of his organ- 
ization, the multiplicity of his needs and susceptibil- 
ities, the boundlessness of his desires, the manifoldness 
of his relations, the illimitableness of his capabilities. 
Surely it is no exaggeration when the poet says of the 
human soul that it is — 

" Of a thousand faculties composed 
And twice ten thousand interests.' 

For such a being as this, so bountifully endowed, 
made to be, in the language of the old philosopher, 
"the measure of the universe," that must be the true 
religion which most fully corresponds to his wants and 
possibilities. That must be the truest version of the 
grand universe of spiritual facts, which best satisfies and 
harmonizes with the soul's needs and activities. 

We come to the same conclusion in another way. 
Look at this universe of matter! How vast! how end- 
lessly varied ! how broad and long and deep and high ! 
how rich in significance and beauty is even this! But 
compare matter with spirit. That is gross, monotonous, 
barren, lifeless: this is ethereal, infinitely various, free, 
potent, productive. The one is but a shell, the husk: 
the other the true living organism. The one is the 
shadow, cold, colorless, unsubstantial, dead: the other 
is reality glowing with beauty, palpitating with life, in- 



SERMONS. 27I 

stinct with energy. The material world, considered 
apart and alone, is finite and temporal. The spiritual 
has God for its centre, infinity for its boundary, eternity 
for its measure, and is traversed its whole length by 
mystery, the shadow which ever trembles along the line 
where the finite borders on the infinite. The one is 
exhaustible to the reason and feeling, the other inex- 
haustible forever. 

Hence then, I repeat, the system that most faithfully 
reflects the boundless universe of Divine Reality in its 
magnitude and amplitude, that system which brings the 
human into the closest connection with the Divine, the 
finite with the infinite, the temporal with the eternal, 
flashing on the lower the light of the higher, and in- 
vesting it with infinite significance and worth, such a 
system, it needs no further argument to show, must 
be that which God meant for men. 

And such a system is Christianity. Alone of all the 
systems received among men does it satisfy the terms 
of the test which has already been laid down. The 
Word of God claims for it this quality in language most 
significant and emphatic. It is called a manifestation 
by the Church of the manifold wisdom of God, a mani- 
festation made to the principalities and powers in heav- 
enly places, to the highest, that is, in the celestial hierarchy 
of intelligence. Angels desire to look into it. It is the 
mystery hid from ages and from generations, but 
abounding in riches of glory made known to the saints. 
It is the unsearchable riches of Christ. • It is what eye 
hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart conceived — 
Yea, the deep things of God revealed by the Spirit who 
alone searcheth them. 

The Bible then, we see, claims for Christianity, as a 
body of truth, these qualities of boundless breadth, of 
unsearchable depth, of inexhaustible fulness, of trans- 



272 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

cendent glory. Can this claim be justified? Does 
Christianity really possess these qualities? In discussing 
these questions I hope to make it appear that it does, 
and not only so, but that the one form of Christianity 
for which this claim can be vindicated is that which is 
commonly recognized by the name Evangelical Chris- 
tianity. 

First then, let us test in the light of the principle first 
laid down, the claims put forth by Christianity as a 
system of supernatural facts and agencies. 

The theory called naturalism, which opposes these 
claims, teaches that everything, takes place wholly 
and exclusively according to physical law, according 
to a certain fixed immutable order. There is a line 
of sequences running from the begining to the end of 
things. No power can come between the cause and 
effect, and change the course of law. God himself 
never so intervenes, either because he can not, being 
himself bound by the law which binds nature, or be- 
cause he will not; the predetermined order estab- 
lished by himself being the best possible, so that it 
would be inconsistent in him to change it. And this, 
it is claimed, is the glory of the system of nature. It 
is so perfect, so harmoniously adjusted from the begin- 
ning, that no intervention is needed. Whatever design 
God had to fulfill at any particular point is provided for 
in the system itself. No exigency can be sprung upon 
it, which the system is not ready to meet. 

Whereas, it is claimed that the theory of the super- 
natural, seems to imply that God's original plan is a fail- 
ure. It breaks down here and there, so that God must 
step in to repair the failure, to do himself what the 
system which he first chose and established as best, as 
perfect, has shown itself inadequate to accomplish. 

Now we admit that if God has called into existence 






SERMONS. 273 

nothing but matter, nothing which is not moved and 
determined from without, the argument is a good one. 
If God has created nothing but a machine, in which 
one wheel is set in motion by another, and in which 
every motion of every wheel is regulated absolutely by 
other parts of the machinery, then to say that God 
puts forth his hand here, and his finger there, to 
change the motion of one wheel, to stop or reverse 
that of another, to secure at any point some particular 
result, which the machinery at that point fails to secure, 
that is to reproach God with failure. But this is ex- 
actly the point where we take issue with materialism. 
According to its theory, the universe is just such a 
machine. 

You see, then, what this system gives you. It gives 
you a huge machine, constructed — perhaps — by God, 
ages ago, but since then let alone, running itself, 
weaving out its own products, God standing aside and 
looking on. Or else if you prefer the statement, for it 
is the only alternative on the theory of naturalism, 
God himself is that machine. This endless play of 
cause and effect, this incessant plying of the shuttle 
of law, it is God in motion. In either case you are 
shut up in this iron-bound routine which you call law; 
you are under the inexorable tyranny of causation; 
you, and everything else, are mere puppets of Fate. 
You may speak of "moral agents," but you are cheat- 
ing yourself with a name. All agents are subject to 
the same laws. Your actions, and all actions, are de- 
termined by powers which you can not resist nor 
change. You may talk of "spiritual world;" it is a 
mere euphemism ; all is part and parcel of one system. 
There is nothing but nature anywhere. You may talk 
of "right and wrong," but it is only an illusion. These 
words mean only that some wheels turn forward, and 



274 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

others turn backward, whereas if you could only see 
the whole machinery, it is all one. You may talk of 
"God;" you might just as well say "Law," "Na- 
ture," "Fate," "Logic of Events," for what is that 
which you call God after all ? It is simply, generally, 
a metaphysical convenience to account for the existence 
of things, to help the unscientific mind answer the 
question — who made the world? 

But all that you can know of God is what you find 
out in nature. All that God can do for you is just 
what nature does for you. As for praying to God, or 
thanking him — what is the use of it all? As well pray 
to the law of gravitation to bring the rain down. As 
well thank the law of specific gravity for preserving 
you from drowning. As well love the law of nutrition 
for sustaining your life. Religion, faith in the unseen, 
trust in a Power who uses every other power as he 
wills, love and reverence for One whose wisdom is un- 
searchable, and his ways past finding out — it is all 
vanity. Nature is all in all. This you can see, touch, 
handle, use, and know. What more do you want? 
What else is there for you ? 

Now let us turn to the doctrine of the Supernatural 
that we may contrast it with the other, and judge 
which gives the broadest and sublimest view of God's 
Administration of the Universe. This doctrine you 
will notice, admits that there is a system of nature, a 
world of order, uniformity, law, as these terms are 
defined by the Naturalist. In that system everything 
is subject to the law of cause and effect, and so far as we 
may call it, for practical purposes, a machine. More- 
over, this machine is perfect in and for itself. So far 
as the results belonging to itself are concerned, no 
supernatural interposition is needed. But this machine 
does not embrace all forms of existence. God has 



SERMONS. 275 

created agencies whose movements are not a part of 
the mechanism of cause and effect. He has made 
beings in his own image, free, independent, having the 
power to originate movements, to produce results which 
would be impossible in a mechanical necessity. Here, 
then, we have in effect another world, another system 
of powers, forces, activities, above and apart from that 
mechanism of cause and effect, which is the only world 
recognized by naturalism. And the doctrine of the 
supernatural teaches that as between these two w r orlds, 
the world of free, spiritual, self-moving activity is far 
superior to the world of necessity. Its powers and 
activities are nearer in form and reality to those of God. 
Here, then, we are to look for the truest interpretation 
of God's plan. Here we must expect to find his high- 
est and largest methods of working. 

Instead of making that lower world of necessity, of 
matter, the measure of this higher world of liberty, 
we should make this the measure of that. That is alto- 
gether subordinate to this. That world of mechanical 
movement is simply an instrument used by God to 
further his plans in this world of moral movement, of 
spiritual activity. 

" What is the world, the starry state 
Of the broad skies — what all displays 
Of power and beauty intermixed, 
Which now thy soul is chained betwixt, 
What else than needful furniture 
For life's first stage ? " 

Instead of judging the laws of God's actions by what 
he does in that world of preparatory instrumentalities, 
we should judge them by what he does in the world of 
ultimate results. 

Our doctrine affirms still further that this latter world, 
by virtue of the very power of liberty inherent in it, 
has become the scene of fearful disorder. It has gene- 



276 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

rated within itself an appalling power of evil, which 
strives to dislocate the universe, to send it from its God, 
and to hurl it back into chaos. This terrible power is 
what no mere machine could ever have produced. 

It is a perversion of a glorious power which has in 
it something of God Himself. Something which mat- 
ter could never contain or manifest. It strikes at the 
very throne of God. Is that conceivable of matter or 
any evolution of matter ? 

Now bear in mind that this moral system, endowed 
with these wonderful powers, thus disturbed and con- 
vulsed by sin, is the system in which God most espe- 
cially reveals himself; that its interests are the highest 
and most important in his sight ; that the ultimate ends 
of all he does are to be sought for here, that the sys- 
tem of nature exists for this, and is of use so far, and 
only so far, as it helps to work out the great results for 
the sake of which he made the moral world. Bear in 
mind, moreover, that these two systems, or if you pre- 
fer, these two parts of the one great system, are so 
different in their quality, their organization, their move- 
ments, that the physical world can no more solve the 
problems of the moral universe, than a calculating 
machine can expound the decalogue ; and that to say 
that in dealing with the mysterious powers of the 
spiritual world, God must use the same methods as 
in the natural, and none other, is as reasonable as it would 
be to affirm that he must use moral forces as he uses 
physical forces, in conformity to the principles of geom- 
etry. 

You will then be prepared for the teachings of faith 
in the supernatural, when it says : God uses the system 
of nature as he wills, to secure the grand results of his 
moral administration. He uses nature as his instru- 
ment. He exercises the liberty of a wise and sover- 



SERMONS. 277 

eign Ruler to change its uniform order, whenever the 
interests of his moral administration require it. He 
opens the windows of heaven, unseals the fountains of 
the deep. " He springs the hushed volcano's mine, he 
puts the earthquake on her still design, darkens the 
sun, hath bade the forest sink, he changes water into 
wine," makes the blind to see, brings the dead to life 
again, in a word, he transcends the bounds of our lim- 
ited experience, asserts himself as Lord of nature, 
constrains it to the performance of results of which apart 
from the great spiritual ends thus accomplished, nature 
itself furnishes no foreshadowing. 

But you ask, does not this doctrine in the least 
disparage nature ? Does it not dishonor law or detract 
from its true significance? Not in the least. On the 
contrary, there is no system which sets on nature the 
seal of a higher consecration than Christianity, in that 
it declares nature to be more than a huge mechanism 
of physical force, more than an intellectual phenom- 
enon, to be in truth the auxiliary of God's moral plan, 
his pliant instrument in the spiritual regeneration and 
discipline of his children. The Christian system is 
indeed in the highest sense a system of law, not a law 
as dominant merely to these grosser material elements 
of existence, not of law as confined within the bounds 
of our brief and petty experience of physical facts. It 
reveals to us a system of law as determined by the 
Divine Mind, of law as manifesting itself in the illimit- 
able realms of spiritual liberty and life, of law as the 
measure of the Divine purpose that runs through the 
ages of eternity. Its agents are not the dancing pup- 
pets of Destiny, moved by some higher sort of electric- 
ity, which makes freedom and responsibility impossible. 
They are sons of God deriving from their Author capa- 
bilities which the categories of Infinitude can alone 



2^8 LLEWEYLN IOAN EVANS. 

measure and contain. Its forces are not meaningless 
make-believes playing at an infinite game of hide-and- 
seek, sportively disguising themselves as Good and Evil, 
Truth and Error, Angel and Devil, whose collisions 
have no significance, essentially more real, or profound, 
or lasting than the clashing of billows, or the battles of 
ants. They are endowed with the free rational energy 
which moves in Omnipotence itself. Its disorders and 
convulsions have power to shake all but the everlasting 
throne. Its conflicts are such as enlist the energies of 
Omnipotence, the flaming ardors of Infinite Justice, the 
gentle but invincible compassions of Infinite Love. 
Its height is heaven ; its depth is hell. Its glories and 
joys are consummate perfection of capabilities which 
find their completion in the Infinite; its horrors and 
woes are the dread counterpart of those glories and 
joys, the abysmal darkness, desolation, despair of lost 
souls. 

Contrast again for a moment the revelation which 
Christianity as a supernatural system gives of God, 
with that given by naturalism. According to the 
latter, as we have already seen, God is little else than 
Force or Fate. He is nothing more than Nature per- 
sonified. What Nature is, God is : that, and that only. 
The solution of Nature is the solution of God. Man 
is the measure of the universe, and the universe is the 
measure of God. But what does Christianity reveal to 
us? It reveals God as in very deed, and not in name 
only, the Infinite One, whose intelligence is boundless, 
whose wisdom is unsearchable, the laws of whose 
activity infinitely transcend the manifestations you find 
in Nature, so that it were easier to find all of the soul 
in the visible actions of the muscles and nerves of the 
body, than to find all of God in Nature. It reveals God 
as a Ruler whose Kingdom is without end. A Ruler 



SERMONS. 279 

whose great Plan has for its meaning not the mere 
evolution of matter, but the redemption and beatifica- 
tion of spirit. It reveals God as a Father, as the Head 
not of a kingdom only, but of a family, who adminis- 
ters the affairs of his vast household, not with the cold 
precision of the mechanist, nor with the willful caprice 
of a despot, but with the thoughtful interest and yearn- 
ing tenderness, the faithful wisdom of a Father's heart, 
ever overflowing in gentle ministrations of beneficence, 
and ever breaking out in sweet surprises of love. Say, 
O brother man ! which of these views of God is most 
worthy of Him ? Which best meets the needs and 
longings of that erring, struggling, suffering heart of 
thine? And here before leaving this branch of our 
subject, let us compare briefly the views which these 
two systems present of man. We will not insist now, 
as we might do, on the manifest tendency of all forms 
of naturalism to degrade man by sinking his genealogy 
in the brute, and to make his physical conditions the 
determining force of his life. We will, for the present, 
assume that naturalism goes no further than to deny 
the need or the application of supernatural agencies to 
the redemption of man from sin, or, to the promotion 
of his spiritual advancement. But consider what this 
denial involves. 

If there is no supernatural redemption, aud no need 
of such, it follows that sin involves no serious derange- 
ment of the normal order of existence, that the com- 
mission of it involves the exercise of no power of 
liberty or self-determination peculiar to man. If there 
is no such power, appalling as it is, when exercised 
in the direction of evil, it is difficult to see how there 
can be in the direction of good, the possibility of 
attaining any such elevation as will vindicate for 



280 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

humanity any special prerogatives above the rest of 
the sentient creation. 

Human development being a purely natural process, 
the products of brain and heart being but organic se- 
cretions of a higher quality, the Platonic philosophy is 
but a more refined type of the silkworm cocoon. That 
the Christian commonwealth is but a colossal honey 
comb, that the achievements of genius and of heroism 
are the offspring of one universal force which rolls through 
all things, which works in the spider and the serpent, 
the coward and the knave, as well as in the martyr and 
the saint — what then ? All personal nobleness vanishes 
at once out of human character, the glory of the God- 
like no longer crowns the life. 

Christianity on the other hand, in recognizing super- 
natural agencies among the determining forces of man's 
spiritual history, recognizes in man something which 
rises above nature, which claims nearer kinship to God, 
which qualifies him to know and to feel God in loftier 
aspirations, and more intimate relations than those in 
which he can be known or felt in nature. In the view 
which it furnishes of the reality of human responsibility 
and liberty, of the depth of humanity's fall, of the power 
needed for its recovery, of the subordination of all nat- 
ural and historical movements to the moral interests of 
the Divine government, it confers imperishable dignity 
on that manhood, to the spiritual restoration and culture 
of which all the forces of the Divine administration con- 
verge. Recognizing in man the very child of God, it 
finds in his powers affinities to the Divine powers, it 
finds the Infinite of the Divine Life reflected in the 
illimitable of human capacity and progress, it finds in 
human perfection the spiritual asymptote which ever 
approximates the Divine Perfection, the ever ripening 






SERMONS. 28l 

glory of a manhood nurtured immediately by the life 
of Him in whose Infinite Beauty is Infinite Holiness. 
Naturalism tells us that Inspiration is a general and 
perpetual fact It is not limited to times or persons, or 
books. Every utterance which brings to light some 
great verity, or some important aspect of being is a 
revelation. Every soul which speaks from an original, 
living, and powerful intuition or experience of beauty, 
goodness, truth, is inspiredc The Bible is a revelation, 
but so are the Vedas, the Koran, the Iliad. Isaiah, 
Paul, Jesus, were inspired, but so were Buddha, 
Zoroaster, Socrates. God did communicate v/ith men 
in Palestine centuries ago, but so he does in other lands 
to-day. Inspiration is not a thing of the past. The Book 
of Divine Revelation is not closed : and the Scriptures of 
the Nineteenth Century are, and of right ought to be, 
better and fuller than those of the first. And the nat- 
uralist imagines that in thus enlarging the area, extend- 
ing the period, and multiplying the media of inspiration, 
he dignifies humanity, exalts its prerogatives, widens 
its prospects, and magnifies its destiny. 

But is it so? Let us admit the claims put forth by 
the opponents of supernaturalism, in so far as they are 
of a positive character. They tell us that God's Spirit 
as the spirit of Truth is not confined to Judea, or the 
past : that he is present with men of all times and of all 
lands, unfolding now more clearly and now more ob- 
scurely the realities of the Spiritual Universe, giving to 
them glimpses, here brighter and there fainter, of the 
Good that is above them, the Life that is beyond them, 
of the Eternity that is around them, of the God who 
is in all, and through all, and over all : and furthermore, 
that he raises from time to time seers, prophets, 
teachers, men of refined spiritual organization, of clari- 
fied vision and prevision, whose souls thrill responsively 



282 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

beneath the influences of the unseen, and throb with 
the life of the unborn Future, and whose tongues are 
tipt with heavenly flame. Let us admit that, I say, as 
Paul in Athens admitted it. Call those manifestations 
if you please, revelations : call that enlarged apprehen- 
sion — inspiration. We will admit the fact, waiving, for 
the present, all controversy about terms. But what 
then ? Do we gain anything by saying that there is 
nothing more than this? Does the materialism of the 
world gain by denying that amidst all the productions 
which give value to it, amidst all the "thoughts which 
breathe and words which burn " on the written page, 
amidst all these, and rising immeasurably above all 
these, there is one word which can be called — The Word 
of God? Does the realm of thought gain by denying 
that amidst all the profound intuitions, the surprising 
discoveries, the glowing exhibitions of truth, amidst all 
those sublime utterances in which we are constrained to 
recognize the echoes of the Eternal Voice, there is one 
Book, in whose utterances that Voice so unmistakably 
speaks that by it we are enabled to test all other utter- 
ances whatsoever — Yea, not only to test them, but to 
extract from them a higher meaning, to see in them a 
diviner beauty than would otherwise have appeared in 
them? — for does anyone doubt that the Christian phi- 
losopher of to-day finds in Plato greater depth and 
beauty of thought than the most gifted philosopher of 
Athens? Does the history of truth in its progressive 
march from age to age gain by denying that God or- 
dained aforetimes a wonderful series of events to be the 
living embodiment and representation of truth, culmi- 
nating in a great historic Incarnation of The Truth, a 
series of events so unspeakably sublime, an Incarnation 
so mysteriously and yet so divinely glorious, that the 
special teachings of the Eternal Spirit were needed to 



SERMONS. 283 

enable human intelligence rightly to apprehend them, 
and human speech faithfully to record them for the en- 
lightenment of the future? Does the conception of 
humanity's capabilities and prospects gain by denying 
that the spirit of man can be brought into such accord 
with the Spirit of God as to be susceptible of perfectly 
receiving and transmitting the thoughts, the purposes, 
and the life of God ? 

When we say that human intelligence, insight, pre- 
vision, can be made, even now, the special exponents 
of the Divine Thought, can even in this world of ob- 
scurity and bewilderment, in this life of struggling and 
doubting, be lifted to the realms of light and calm and 
certainty, when we point in proof of this to the Bible, 
to the Divine Power which pulsates in every line of it, 
to the Divine Beauty which shines on every page of it, 
to the Divine Fullness which bursts forth in every mes- 
sage of it, do we thereby depreciate the powers and 
prospects of the soul? Nay! The doctrine of Plenary 
Inspiration, while it takes naught away from the great- 
ness and worth of all other activities and achievements 
of the mind, immeasurably enhances our view of the 
sweep of its powers, of the range of its possibilities, 
of the altitude of its future attainments, by establishing 
a communion between it and the Eternal Spirit, the 
loftiness and intimacy of which surpasses all that other- 
wise we could have deemed possible. 

I have discoursed thus long about this part of our 
subject, because the controversy between faith and un- 
belief in our day, seems to turn principally on the 
opposition between naturalism and supernaturalism, 
and because the denial of the latter is a bar at the out- 
set to the reception of any of the distinctive features of 
the Christian Religion. I shall only have time to indi- 
cate very briefly, some of the results which may be 



284 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

reached by applying the same test to a few of those 
features, leaving it with you to make a wider and minuter 
application for yourselves. 

Let us begin, then, with the Evangelical doctrine of 
the Trinity, The opposite view commonly known as 
Unitarian (which name I use in its philosophical, and 
not in its sectarian sense,) establishes itself on the sim- 
ple and absolute unity of God. This it sets forth as 
the only and total expression of the constitution of the 
Divine Nature. According to the Trinitarian view, on 
the contrary, all of a positive character which Unita- 
tarianism affirms of the Divine Unity is true, and of 
Cardinal importance, while still further there is a sense 
in which God is three, as he is also one. He is not 
only the Infinite and Absolute One, he is at the same 
time, the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit, these dis- 
tinctions being not nominal, but real and personal. 

And, now, which of these two views gives us the 
fullest, most comprehensive, and satisfactory concep- 
tion of the Deity? Let me direct your attention 
simply by way of illustration, to one or two connec- 
tions in which the superiority of the Evangelical view 
is, to my mind, strikingly manifest. 

Have you not often found yourself striving to con- 
ceive the existence of God, when he was as yet alone? 
And have you not found something appalling, some- 
thing oppressive in the thought of that Infinite and 
Eternal solitude in which the naked conception of the 
Divine Unity compels you to place God? Do you 
wonder, then, in all heathen religions, and in all sys- 
tems of thought outside of Christianity, the mind of 
man shrinks from regarding Eternity as the abode of a 
solitary personality, and has preferred filling it either^ 
with some impersonal attraction, some neutral Force, 
some Nothing of which it could just be said that it 



SERMONS. 285 

was, some Infinite That, as the Hindu calls it, some 
To Auto, as even Plato is betrayed into designating it, 
or else with an endless series of theogonies, or suc- 
cession of changes ? What relief from that oppression 
is there except in the doctrine revealed through Christ, 
that from Eternity God was there, that from everlast- 
ing, Father, Son, and Spirit, lived together in ineffable 
and blissful intercommunion ? How is it again when 
you think of God in his relations to the mind? First 
of all you find yourself under the necessity of think- 
ing of Him as the Great First Cause. Your intellect 
demands this solution of the problem of creation. But 
does this satisfy you ? No ! You want to find God in 
Nature. You do not want to feel that nature stands 
between you and God, that he is behind it, back of all 
its movements and powers, but that he is here, now. 
You feel all the time that the conception of a mere 
First Cause fades away into an abstraction, something 
far away from you, vague, impersonal, intangible. You 
want a conception of the Deity, which will assure you 
not only that God made all things, but that he is the 
life of all, the spirit who encourages all. But are you 
satisfied yet? No! You find that this conception of 
a Universal Spirit filling all things, tends to diffuse it- 
self into a generality scarcely less vague than the 
former. You feel yourself drifting into pantheism, the 
conception of a God who is everything. You want 
still further, the conception of a God who comes forth 
out of himself, revealing himself as a distinct, real, 
historic personality. Such is the view of God which 
the Christian doctrine of the Trinity gives you. 

It reveals God as the Cause, the Life and the Law 
of the universe : God the Father, creating all things ; 
God the Spirit, animating all things; God the Son, 
the Logos, legislating and ruling all things, in whom, 



286 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

as the Incarnate Word, the true personality of the 
Godhead is most fully manifested. Here the mind is 
satisfied. It has a revelation of the Deity in which it 
can rest, secure from those negative, vague, mechanical 
extremes, into which more partial views almost certainly 
lead. 

Let us rise still higher to the moral life of the Deity. 
The Fatherhood of God: where should we find the 
best evidence of that ? Shall we look to Nature ? Its 
testimony is enigmatic, fragmentary and confused. 
Shall we appeal to Providence ? Its witness is all but 
drowned in the thousandfold wail of earth's discords 
and woe. Shall we listen to the voices of the heart? 
Conscience burdened with guilt and trembling with 
forebodings, speaks louder than the heart. No ! if you 
would be assured that God is indeed the Father, you 
must betake yourself to the testimony which assures 
you that from eternity his heart throbbed with the love 
of his only begotten, the brightness of his glory, and 
the express image of his person. Nor is this all which 
this testimony makes known to you. It tells you of a 
Spirit proceeding from the Father, by the Son, who is 
given to those who believe, and who being received by 
them makes them the sons of God. The Eternal Father, 
the Eternal Son, the Eternal Spirit of Sonship — this is 
the threefold testimony on which we rest our faith in 
the Divine Fatherhood. Take it away and will not this 
precious truth lose its most sure witness? 

The Love of God ! do you wish to comprehend its 
breadth and depth and length and height? Where then 
will you find its highest expression ? The test of human 
love is sacrifice, the sacrifice of self. Does not your 
heart cry out for some testimony of the Divine Love, 
as full, as deep, as tender, as that which human love 
gives when it sacrifices itself for another? But think of 



SERMONS. 2S7 

it! God making a sacrifice, — and that sacrifice Himself, 
is that conceivable ? Take away the doctrine of the 
Trinity, and the conception is impossible. He makes 
the sacrifice — do you say? but how, to whom? There 
must be One to accept it, One to represent those infi- 
nite interests of Love and Justice, to satisfy which the 
sacrifice is made, and to declare its sufficiency. There 
must be One again to authenticate it again to us, to seal 
it, make it efficacious, secure its benefits to those for 
whom it was made, and this is what the Gospel reveals 
to us. 

" Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the 
sin of the w r orld!" This is the sacrifice, — God's Lamb! 
"This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased." 
This is the acceptance of the sacrifice. ' ' God so loved 
the world that he gave his only begotten Son." "The 
Son of Man came to give his life a ransom for many." 
This is the Love which ordains, and the Love which makes 
the sacrifice. "The love of God shed abroad in our 
hearts, through the Holy Ghost that is given unto us." 
This is the Love in its blessed human consummation. 
The Father's love, the Son's love, the Spirit's love — 
Behold the love of God which passeth knowledge ! 

A hint or two in regard to the wonderful suggest- 
iveness of the Christian Doctrine of God's Incarnation 
in Christ. "The Word was God." "The Word was 
made flesh." How simple! how sublime! For ages 
philosophy has busied itself w r ith the contradiction be- 
tween Eternity and Time, attempting their reconcilia- 
tion, and failing in that, denying either their reality, or 
the possibility of their reconciliation. The Incarnation 
silences this contradiction at once and forever. "Unto 
us a child is born, unto us a Son is given ; and his 
name shall be called the Mighty God, the Father of 
Eternity." What a view does it give us of the Power 



288 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

of God ! He, who was in the form of God, and the 
equal of God, empties himself: He whose life we call infi- 
nite, because, in the poverty of thought and language, 
we can not tell what it is, only that it is not finite, He 
enters into the conditions and limitations of this little 
life of ours, God can do that! What greater mani- 
festation of power is conceivable? 

What a revelation does this doctrine give us of the 
Moral Life of God ! He who gives the law, appears 
under the law. He whom all laws obey, becomes obe- 
dient, even unto death. The King of all, is the serv- 
ant of all, and reigns through serving. " Whosoever 
will be chief among you, let him be your servant, even 
as the Son of Man came not to be ministered unto, but 
to minister." How many are these infinite contrasts we 
find in the Incarnate Son of God, so wonderful and yet 
so needful for the intellect, the conscience, the heart! 
The Hearer of Prayer — the Man of Prayer! The 
Author and Finisher of Faith. 

Example of Faith : All victorious strength — the sym- 
pathy of human tears ! Divine Blessedness — the Agony 
of Blood ! The Glory of the Father — the Cross of 
shame! The Fulness of the Godhead — the First-born 
among many brethren ! 

" Most human and yet most Divine 
The flower of man and God." 

Above all, who can measure the significance and 
power of that great central fact in the Incarnate Life 
of the Son of God, the atoning Sacrifice of Calvary? 
Is there in the world any knowledge of the Purity and 
Justice of God, of the exceeding sinfulness of sin, of 
the inviolability of God's law, of the worth of the soul, 
of the magnitude of redemption, of the immensity of 
Divine Love? It comes from the cross. That which 
makes sin a fact of such terrible import, is that the 



SERMONS. 289 

Son of God must die to remove its guilt and power, 
That which makes the Law divinely sacred, is that 
Christ laid down his life to honor and to establish it. 
That which makes holiness authoritative and supreme in 
the realm of moral obligation, is the manifold sanction 
which it receives from the dying obedience of the Sav- 
ior. That which makes manhood of priceless worth, 
is that its price was the blood of Golgotha. That 
which invests life with awful solemnity, is that Christ 
has entered into his struggles, and made victory pos- 
sible. That which confers honor and immortality in 
the imperishable deeds of self-sacrificing heroism, is 
that they faintly reflect the deed and breathe the spirit 
of him who sacrificed himself for the world. That 
which makes Divine Love ineffably sweet and precious, 
is that it comes to man through a gift which cost the 
Father's heart infinitely. That which makes known to 
us the intense reality and earnestness of the life of 
God, is that its yearnings and purposes find their 
divinest issue in the Cross. That which gives to the 
history of our fallen humanity its divine solution, that 
which makes its miserere anything but the wail of de- 
lirium, that which makes its immortality aught but a 
grand Perhaps, is the light of the Cross. 

In the cross of Christ I glory, 

Towering o'er the wrecks of time, 

All the light of sacred story- 
Gathers round His head sublime. 



XIII. 

NOT RICH TOWARD GOD. 

Luke 12: 16-21. "And he spake a parable unto them, saying: The ground 
of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully. And he thought within himself, 
saying: What shall I do, because I have no room where to bestow my fruits? 
And he said, This will I do: I will pull down my barns and build greater; and 
there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods. And I will say to my soul: Sou!, 
thou hast much goods laid up for many years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be 
merry. But God said unto him, Thou Fool : this night thy soul shall be required 
of thee, then whose shall these things be which thou hast provided? So is he that 
layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God." 

"So is he" — such his condition, such the prospects 
before him. Ruin stares him in the face. His invest- 
ments are worthless. The hour is at hand when he will 
lift up his eyes in a state of utter and eternal destitu- 
tion. He thinks he is rich, and lo ! he is a beggar. — 
He says to his soul, thou hast much goods laid up for 
many years, and one night finds him stripped of every- 
thing. There must have been a tremendous mistake 
somewhere. How did he come to commit such a fatal 
blunder? Christ explains the matter: "So is he that 
layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward 
God." Not, observe, because he layeth up treasure, 
but because he lays it up for himself. Not because he 
is rich in fruits and goods, but because he is not rich 
toward God. 

Christ then does not prohibit all seeking after riches, 

He does not forbid the acquisition of earthly property, 

within certain limits, under certain conditions, and for 

certain ends. He does not disapprove the efforts of 

(29°) 



SERMONS. 29I 

any to secure an independent competence, to make 
provision for the future, against sickness, reverses, and 
old age. He does not say that it is wrong to grow 
rich, or that the rich cannot be saved, although he 
does say that a rich man shall hardly enter into the 
kingdom of heaven, and that it is easier for a camel to 
go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man 
to enter into the kingdom of God. And if Christ said 
this, we may be sure he meant this. 

Furthermore, if it was true when he said it, it is true 
to-day. At the same time Christ does not blame men 
for being rich, nor for becoming rich. It is not for 
having this, that, or the other that he holds them 
guilty, but for not having that which is indispensable : 
not for seeking after other things, but for not seeking 
first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness. That 
which determines the right and wrong of the matter is 
the motive, the end in view. Do you seek to become 
rich toward God ? Then there is nothing which you 
may not strive to acquire and to make your own. 
"All things are yours." Do you lay up treasure for 
yourself? God says to you, "Thou fool!" 

The character of the rich man spoken of in the para- 
ble, is by no means an uncommon one. There is 
nothing said about him which requires us to suppose 
that he was avaricious, that he was what men call a 
miser. He does not seem to have been of a grasping 
disposition. It does not appear that he cheated any- 
body. He did not grind the poor, and wring his wealth 
out of their sweat and groans — indeed it is not neces- 
sary to suppose that in the pursuit of gain he put forth 
any extraordinary degree of ardor and energy. He 
seems to have been rather a happy-go-lucky — a lover 
of ease, enjoyment, and good living. He was fortunate, 
unexpectedly so. His ground brought forth plentifully, 



292 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

so that he had no room where to bestow his fruits. 
Naturally he resolved to build new barns, and larger 
ones, and. thereupon he seems to have been satisfied. 
He was not consumed apparently with that feverish desire 
for more, like the leech which can never say — enough. 
He made up his mind to enjoy his unexpected pros- 
perity. It was not his purpose either to hoard up his 
riches, to brood over them, or to consume them in sol- 
itary enjoyment. He meant to share them with others. 
He was what the world calls a generous man, a good 
fellow. He would fill his house with delicacies and 
luxuries, load his table with the daintiest of dishes, and 
the choicest of wines, and entertain his friends with 
princely cheer, and one unceasing round of merry-mak- 
ing. "Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many 
years, take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry." 

Such an one the world is ever inclined to judge 
leniently. It admires him, it applauds him, it welcomes 
him to its most favored circles; even when it blames 
him it is so tenderly, with a tongue so sugared with flat- 
tery, and with a look so evidently dazzled by the qual- 
ities which it admires, as to leave it doubtful whether 
after all its blame is not most eloquent of praise. And 
this is the man whom God charges with folly. To this 
pet of society, this favorite of fortune, revelling in riches 
and luxury, bountifully dispensing hospitality, surround- 
ing himself with all that can minister delight to sense, 
taste, and sociability, God says — "Thou fool! this 
night thy soul shall be required of thee, then whose 
shall those things be which thou hast provided?" 

Now it is true that Christ presents to us here a spe- 
cial case, what we may call, perhaps, an extreme case. 
He would put before us, in most startling light, the 
folly of living even for a day, as though this life, this 
world were all. He represents to us a man who is 



SERMONS. 293 

taken away from his riches just as he is preparing to 
enjoy them. The cup of his prosperity has just been 
filled, he is just raising it to his lips, when it is dashed 
from his hand by death. "This night thy soul shall 
be required of thee." That one who was on the verge 
of eternity, who had not another day to live, should 
abandon himself to selfish enjoyment, was, indeed, the 
height of folly. Most people would admit that, but is 
that all you see in the case ? Was it simply the fact 
that the shadow of death was already on his threshold 
that made this man a fool? Did he show any more 
folly in promising himself many years' enjoyment than 
thousands of others all about him? Has any one here 
a better right to say what he said, than he had ? Have 
you a surer claim on the future? Is it any wiser in 
you to neglect the acquisition of imperishable riches, 
to put it off for a single day, than it was in him ? Ob- 
serve — he did not promise himself endless enjoyment of 
his possesions. What he said to his soul was: "Thou 
hast much goods laid up for many years." He did 
not say "forever." He knew there would be an end 
of enjoying those things. We are at liberty to suppose, 
at least, that he meant at some time to secure treasures 
more lasting. 

That time never came to him. It may never come 
to you. Certain it is that to multitudes of those who 
say: "I hope to be a Christian sometime," that some- 
time never comes. God says to-day. For man to say 
to-morrow, is unspeakable folly. 

Well, suppose that this rich man had realized all the 
enjoyment which he promised himself. Suppose that 
instead of dying just as he was raising the cup to his 
lips, he had drained it and had then died — would his 
folly have been any the less? Would those many 
years of luxurious pleasure have made an eternity of 



294 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

poverty any the more endurable? Would they not the 
rather have made it more bitter and wretched? But, 
you say, he might have repented ! The probabilities 
are all against it. Think of it ! Ten or twenty years 
of such living as he anticipated — what would have been 
the result of it? It would have enfeebled his moral 
constitution yet more ; it would have stupefied his 
conscience, paralyzed his will, confirmed the power of 
evil habit, crushed yet more completely all capacity for 
earnest thought or endeavor, rendered infinitely more 
difficult the task of bursting the fetters of sense, of 
shattering the power of the world, of breaking with 
the past, of giving up the present, and of laying hold 
on Eternal Life. 

While the means of enjoyment lasted, think you that 
he would have stopped his career? When these were 
gone, and with them, perhaps, the capacity of enjoy- 
ment, think you that in that vacant sense of desolation 
that would have followed, in that dreary torpor, that 
bitter exhaustion, that writhing of the heart which 
succeeds a career of self-indulgence, there would have 
been much power or disposition left for anything bet- 
ter? Oh, it is a great mistake — unspeakable folly to 
promise to God the last remnant of your life, the fag- 
end of your manhood, when, perhaps, there will not 
be enough left to make a change possible. 

Or suppose that instead of abandoning himself to an 
epicurean life, he had devoted himself to business, to 
the pursuit of gain or power, had entered on a public 
career, had bought more land, or solicited honors or 
preferments, and served himself in that way, would he 
have shown much more wisdom? Some things, it is 
true, might be said in favor of such a life, which could 
not be said in favor of mere pleasure. 

We are supposing, however, that his motive, his pur- 






SERMONS. 295 

pose is still as before a selfish one, that he simply laid 
up treasure for self, without growing rich toward God. 
Would he have been any the less a fool in the estimate 
of God ? So long as a man is heaping up only perish- 
able treasures does it make much difference what they 
are? Diamonds or bits of common charcoal, does it 
make much difference which, when the fire gets hold of 
them ? But suppose, last of all, that the man instead of 
being rich, had been in moderate circumstances, or even 
poor, but had still been governed by the same spirit. 
For it is not indispensable that a man should be rich in 
order to be worldly. It is not money of itself, nor the 
making of money of itself, that produces selfishness. 
A miserly heart often lives in a lean purse. A self-in- 
dulgent will may lurk under a tattered coat, as well as 
under purple and fine linen. If the man then, of whom 
Christ speaks, had only desired to be rich, without 
actually becoming such, if he had only coveted money, 
without getting much of it, if he had set his highest 
affections on the world, without acquiring a great deal 
of it, would he not have incurred the stern condemna- 
tion of God just the same ? The man who loves the 
world supremely, whether he gets much or little of it, 
the man who lives only in the present, whose best life 
is that which now is, who, when death strips him of 
the things of time, has nothing left him, who, when he 
is left alone with God, has nothing in God that he can 
call his own, that man God calls a fool. He has delib- 
erately refused or carelessly neglected to secure the 
only true riches, and when his soul is required of him 
he parts from his all. 

The lesson taught by these words of Christ then is 
not for a few, not for a class, but for us all. It is for 
the poor as well as for the rich, for the unsuccessful as 
well as for the prosperous, for the man of business as 



296 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

well as for the devotee of pleasure, for him who expects 
a long life, as well as for him from whom death can not 
be far off; for every one who is in danger of choosing 
the transitory for the eternal, the corruptible for the 
imperishable, earth for God. And who is not in danger 
of making this choice ? We know it to be folly, and 
yet how easily we fall into it ! For consider how near 
these things of time seem to ourselves. They lie at our 
feet, at our fingers' ends, all about us. They seem so 
near to us that that which lies beyond can only be reached 
apparently by breaking through them, or thrusting them 
from us : — seem near, I say : — but after all they are far 
off: although v/e touch and feel and handle them every 
day, there is still an immeasurable distance between them 
and us, as there is between the perishable and the 
Eternal, for nothing is near to the soul of man which it 
can not take up into itself, and make a part of itself. 

And yet the fact that they do seem so near to us prompts 
us continually to reach forth our hands to grasp them, as 
children stretch out their hands to clutch at the moon, 
which seems so near, but which is yet so far. And be- 
cause these worldly treasures seem so near to us, so they 
seem also much easier to get : — seem, I say here again : 
for in truth nothing is harder to get, nothing is so hard 
to make our own : nay, we can not make them ours 
fully and forever: no one ever has made them his: no 
one ever will make them his : a man may have a legal 
right to them which none will dare dispute, he may 
brood over them day and night, he may use them in 
every possible way, and get out of them all the profit 
and utility there is in them, and still they won't be his, 
for nothing is truly mine which I can not in some way 
make a part of myself, and treasure up in the very 
core of my being, and I can treasure nothing up there 
which is not Godlike, which has not some affinity to 



SERMONS. 297 

the life, the will, the heart of God. For the soul of a 
man's soul is the life of God within him. If that life 
be wanting the man is dead. It is only when you have 
laid aside one after another, the folds which envelop 
the life, the sensations, experiences, opinions, feelings, 
habits, all the accretions which gather about you from 
without, only when you have pierced to the center, to 
the spirit, and only when in that spirit you find the 
Spirit of God, that you find your true self. Nothing 
will endure then, nothing will be yours forever which 
you can not make a part of the life of God in the soul. 
The man who has the Spirit of God dwelling within 
him, in whom a Divine life is the essential life of his 
manhood, who in all his acquirements enlarges and en- 
riches that life, who ever lives in God and for God, 
a life of sympathy, communion and co-operation with 
God, that man is rich, and he alone. That man is wise 
and he alone. He has that which death can not take 
away from him, which he can carry into eternity, and 
to which he can add and add forever. He who is without 
this has nothing, and for him death is loss, eternity is 
endless bankruptcy and beggary. ' ' To him that hath 
shall be given, and he shall have more abundantly, and 
from him that hath not shall be taken away even that 
he hath." The one layeth up treasure toward God and 
is rich, the other layeth up treasure for himself, and is 
poor. 

The question then is, what is our treasure ? How do 
we lay it up ? What are we living for ? What is the 
life we are living ? Ask your own heart, my hearer, these 
questions. There are not a few, I suppose, in this com- 
munity, as in every other, who live for money. You 
are one of these perhaps. If you are honest with your- 
self, this is the answer which comes from your heart: 
"I am living to make money." At least that is the 



298 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

case at this present time. It may not be so always, you 
think, but it is so, you admit, now. Money is the most 
desirable acquisition which you can make just now. 
You have been carried along by the current, you have 
taken your place in the arena of competition. You are 
doing just what the rest who are about you -are doing. 
As a business man you are constrained by the necessi- 
ties of your position, by a feeling of personal pride, by 
the influence of the atmosphere which you are daily 
breathing, by the interests of your family, and by other 
influences to devote all your energies to the purposes 
in which you are engaged, and to the immediate end 
which you have in view. Without examining now in 
detail the life which you are living, without considering 
your manner of conducting your business, or the business 
itself, or the amount of time which you devote to it, let 
us admit in general that so far there is nothing absolutely 
wrong about your v/ay of life. Business is legitimate, 
of course. Skill, enterprise, success in business are le- 
gitimate objects of ambition. But the question is, what 
is all this for ? Where does it all end ? All this plan- 
ning, toiling, driving, what does it come to? It puts 
money into your purse, does it put anything in your 
soul ? It procures for yourself and your family more of 
the comforts, it may be of the luxuries, of life, it adds 
to your influence and consideration in the community, 
it enables you to respond more honorably and worthily 
to the appeals which are made to your liberality and 
public spirit — and — is that all? Oh! brother — that 
should not be all. There ought to be more — infinitely 
more than that. When you and your money part com- 
pany, when you are taken away from all that it has 
gathered around you, when money can do nothing 
for you, — what then ? When the life which you 
are now living stops, as stop it must,— what then? 



SERMONS. 299 

What will you have, what can you do, in what can you 
take pleasure in a world where the only business known 
is the service of God, where the only riches that are 
worth anything are the rewards of that service ? 

There is such a thing as serving God in business. 
"You can not serve God and Mammon," but you can 
constrain Mammon, you can compel the world into the 
service of God. There is such a thing as making 
money, not for self, but for God, and that is the only 
way to get out of money whatever good there is in it. 
The man who lives to God is the only man who can 
make the most of all that God gives him. The man 
who says of himself — " I am God's! " and who says of 
everything that he has and of everything that he gets 
— "This is God's," and who says of everything which 
he does — "I am doing God's work:" he is the only 
man whose life can be anything but a failure, a total 
loss. If business is making your heart better, if your 
daily pursuits are ennobling your manhood, deepening, 
enlarging, enriching the life of God within, if in forming 
all your plans and carrying out all your enterprises, you 
are acting as God's steward, as Christ's agent, if you re- 
joice in every success which crowns your plans, and in 
every acquisition that you make, because you will be 
able to do more for God. If you are so living that you 
have reason to believe that God is preparing, training 
you for a higher life hereafter — then you are growing 
rich toward God : — then when you part from your 
money you will lose nothing, for you still have and will 
carry with you into eternity all the spiritual good that 
the acquisition and use of money could bring you, all 
those holy habits and devout dispositions, all that conse- 
cration of spirit ; all that community of heart and life with 
God, which when perfected and glorified make heaven. 

If, on the other hand, you are laying up money for 



300 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

yourself, if you are seeking and using it only for self- 
gratification ; if you are investing it only in fleeting en- 
joyments, in things which are good only for time, you 
are laying up for yourself eternal poverty. "He that 
soweth unto the flesh," he that liveth unto self— 
"shall of the flesh reap corruption," he shall find all 
his labors resulting in rottenness, ' i but he that soweth 
to the spirit shall of the spirit reap life everlasting." 

Let us just glance at some of the other ends for 
which many of you are living, treasures, perhaps, of a 
less earthly character, which you regard as more valu- 
able, and which you fondly hope may prove more last- 
ing than silver and gold. Take, for example, esteem, 
good will, the praise of others. This is an object which 
may be legitimately sought after, and it has two uses. 
One is to please the recipient, to gratify his feelings, to 
increase his individual happiness; the other is to make 
him watchful over his character, to incite him to render 
himself worthy of the respect and praise of others, to 
confirm and encourage him in the right, to be a wit- 
ness to the approbation of God. If, now, a man seeks 
praise only for its former uses, only for the present self- 
gratification which it ministers, he seeks that which is 
perishable. Think of that man's life! You feel at 
once there can be nothing solid about it. The man 
who does everything only to be seen and to be praised 
of men, is far from being the most admirable character, 
judging even by the standard of the world. His life 
is a perpetual compromise with popular favor. It is a 
standing bid for applause. His character is mere var- 
nish. His virtues are hollow plausibilities. There is 
nothing in him that will stand the trial, nothing heroic, 
nothing Christlike, nothing that will bear the mockery, 
the spitting, the crown of thorns > the shame of the 
cross. The world may speak highly of him, society 



SERMONS. 3d 

may flatter him, history even may trumpet his praise, 
and — verily, he hath his reward. But there is a higher 
court, which judges not according to appearance, a 
judge who requires truth in the inward parts, who de- 
mands the love of right as right, who enjoins devotion 
to truth, virtue, holiness, for their own sake, who 
honors only those who honor Him, and who seeks first 
his glory. When that man appears at the bar of Eter- 
nity in presence of the Searcher of Hearts, what will 
he have to show? What honor remain for him whom 
God dishonors ? What sweetness in the praise of the 
universe to him w T hom God condemns ? 

On the other hand, if a man does good because he 
loves it, if he does right to please God, after doing it 
with his right hand, when his left knows nothing about 
it, if he values esteem and honor from others as a 
ground of encouragement in well-doing, if he prizes 
the approbation of society as an earnest of the appro- 
bation of God, if he receives praise, not as incense to 
his vanity, but as a tonic to his conscience, if he re- 
joices in the favor of men as an element and a token of 
further influence over them for good, then he has a 
treasure which will never leave him. 

Take a life of intellectual acquisition, a life devoted 
to the accumulation of knowledge, the study of truth. 
Is not this, you ask, a treasure which will endure ? It 
undoubtedly has an element of greater permanence 
than some other treasures which men seek after, but 
whether it will endure forever, depends still on the 
question : Is it sought for and possessed in the law of 
God? Is it made a part of the deep inner spiritual life 
of the heart ? Does it contribute to the development 
of God's image within? Knowledge may make proud. 
It may petrify the heart. It may turn the soul's honey 



302 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

into gall. As (Byron's) Manfred exclaims : They who 
know the most 

"Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth 
The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life." 

Knowledge is power, to be sure, but it may be the 
power of a devil. The true significance of knowledge 
is reached when you find what God thinks and means 
in everything. The true use of knowledge is not real- 
ized until it puts you in line with God. What after 
all makes the true, the highest pleasure of a life of 
intellectual acquisition? It is the discovery of truth, 
of reality, of things as they are, of Being, that Being 
whose Alpha and Omega, whose center and circum- 
ference is God: — it is the apprehension of Law, of 
God's will, making known his Infinite Wisdom; it is 
the perception of beauty, of the presence and inspira- 
tion of the living Spirit of God; it is the practical 
application, and above all, the benevolent use of prin- 
ciples and laws in their moral significance and power to 
advance the coming of his kingdom, who is the truth 
and the life. Take away these elements of enjoyment in 
the pursuit of knowledge, and what have you left that 
is worth cherishing one hour? 

You will say perhaps that one may take pleasure in 
truth considered simply in its abstract intellectual rela- 
tions. Let us grant that. But you must also grant 
that truth so considered is limited. Take away from 
truth its divine aspirations, its significance as the medium 
of communication between God and man, between spir- 
itual realities and the mind, separate it from its moral 
instincts and results, and somewhere you will find an 
end to it. In a soul that is insensible to spiritual beauty 
and perfection which is the reflection of God's glory, 
the motives to the pursuit of truth must sooner or later 
lose their power. I say then, that such a soul cannot 






SERMONS. 303 

make permanent progress. There is a point beyond 
which it either cannot, or will not go. And what then? 
Of what value will all previous acquisitions be, when 
the mind can no longer use them as stepping-stones to 
aught higher, when it can no longer delight in them ? 
Will they not be a burden ? Will it not say — Let them 
perish! Nay, will they not perish for that mind? Here 
also will that fearful curse come to pass — " Whosoever 
hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he 
hath." 

Take as an illustration the physical sciences, the 
study of nature, so justly popular in our day. Here 
there is doubtless an immense field for research, yet it 
is not illimitable. Say that there is occupation here for 
the mind through countless aeons — but there is an end 
somewhere. Nature is not infinite. Robert Browning, 
in one of his most remarkable poems, that entitled 
Easter-day, describes the experiences of one who has 
chosen this world, "Earths exquisite treasures of wonder 
and delight," for his all. At first his soul is filled with 
rapture, but he finds ere long that there is all the time 
something wanting. The vastest science is finite after 
all. He is ever haunted by the feeling that all he sees 
and knows is but the shadow of something infinitely 
more glorious. He has knowledge, it is true — but the 
question, "Whereto does Knowledge serve?" burns his 
eyes at every step, until at last he cries out in des- 
pair, "I let the world go and take Love," and a voice 
from the eternities reminds him that all the time he 
was striving to satisfy himself with mere knowledge, 
that love for which his soul hungered was all about 
him. Its mightiness was entwined round about all the 
power and beauty of the earth. 

' ' Love lay within it, and without 
To clasp thee but in vain. Thy soul 
Still shrank from him who made thee whole. " 



304 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

My hearers, seek that love now which is reaching 
forth to embrace you. Lay up your treasures, your 
love in that Love ! Your affections, your friendship, 
your household loves and joys — these are your treasures, 
and these you fondly hope may endure. Ah! you 
cannot bear to think that these should perish. You 
cannot bear to dream of them as a mere memory, a 
thing of the past. You look into those bright and lov- 
ing eyes that leap to meet you, your soul thrills to the 
music of those sweet familiar voices, which daily greet 
you, your heart yearns toward the kindred heart that 
shares its deepest, most sacred life, you think of the 
departed, of the sound of a voice that is still, and you 
feel that love must be immortal, that true affection will 
never die. You would fain say : 

Love strikes one hour. — Love ! those never loved, 
Who dream that they loved once. 

Yes, my friend, God made love for immortality. 
Eternity has its friendships — oftentimes earth's friendships 
but transplanted, ineffably transfigured and glorified. 
Heaven has its loves, its affections, its purely human 
love — the beginnings of which were here, the consum- 
mate beauty, the perfect sweetness of which is there, 
for is not heaven the best of earth made infinitely bet- 
ter? Do they not point to heaven then here? Did 
not our Elder Brother have his bosom friend ? They 
have their lower, their earthly uses indeed. They min- 
ister to our present gratification ; they contribute to our 
personal comfort; they soften the roughness of life's 
journey ; they refresh the wearied spirit ; they promote 
material prosperity, intellectual and social culture. But 
is that all they were given for ? Ah, no ! They were 
given to redeem humanity from its selfishness, to bring 
the soul into sympathy with heavenly affections, to 



SERMONS. 305 

attune it to spiritual joys, to create sources and supplies 
of holy living, to open fountains of pure and regenerat- 
ing influence, to be channels for divine nurture, to edu- 
cate hearts in the love of God, to train them for the 
endless future, to anticipate heaven below. Friends, 
are your affections, your friendships, your social life, 
your home loves, consecrated to these ends? Sons and 
daughters, brothers, sisters and friends, are these fondly 
cherished ties of life, for the sake of which you cling to 
the thought of immortality, are they made lasting by 
union with him who says, ' ' If a man abide not in me, 
he is cast forth as a branch and is withered, and men 
gather them and cast them into the fire, and they are 
burned"? Or do you profess to live for humanity, to 
love your neighbor as yourself, to serve your age? 
Let me ask you is Christ in your love? Is the cross 
in your service, with all its hatred of sin, with all its 
sacrifice of self, with all its consecration to the glory of 
God ? If you would have in your life a power that will 
make it immortal, get all you can of Christ into it. If 
you would have a treasure that will endure, make God 
your chief good. Make his will your highest law, his 
glory your supreme inspiration. Live to God and all 
things are yours. Be what God loves. Do what God 
loves, and you need not trouble yourself about your 
having and your getting. 4 ' A man's life consisteth not 
in the abundance of the things which he possesseth." 
No ! it is not money, nor what money can bring, not 
the world nor what the world can minister, not knowl- 
edge, not fame, not pleasure, not power,— but life that 
you want. 

11 'Tis life whereof our nerves are scant, 
More life and fuller that we want," 

and that you can find only in an indwelling, inspiring 
Christ. " I am come that they might have life and that 



300 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

they might have it more abundantly." Seek first then 
the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, and not only 
will all other things be added to you now, but hereafter 
nothing that is worth having will be taken away from 
you. 



XIV. 

PRAYER. 

Luke 6 : 12. "And it came to pass in those days that he went out into a mountain 
to pray, and continued all night in prayer to God." 

This is but one of many passages in which mention 
is made of Christ praying. Indeed these passages are 
so numerous that it would seem as though the Holy 
Spirit desired to call special attention to the fact that 
Christ while on this earth did pray, and to impress the 
fact indelibly on our minds. There is also a manifest 
purpose to impress on our minds this other fact that 
Christ not only prayed, but was earnest, constant, dili- 
gent in prayer. It was not something unusual, extra- 
ordinary. It was not a spiritual luxury in which he 
indulged only at rare intervals. It was a constant 
habit ; as much a part of his soul's life, as breathing 
of the life of his body. 

There are many interesting facts in connection with 
Christ's prayers, which it would be profitable for us to 
consider. It would be interesting to look at the cir- 
cumstances in which they were offered. Sometimes — 
most often, doubtless, he prayed in solitude. "And 
when he had sent the multitude away, he went up into 
a mountain apart to pray ; and when evening was 
come, he was there alone." At other times he en- 
gaged in social prayer. "And it came to pass about 
eight days after these sayings, he took Peter, and 

(307) 



308 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

John, and James, and went up into a mountain to 
pray." What prayer meetings were those? Who of 
us has not said, " Would that I had been there ? " We 
learn that he withdrew to pray before engaging in 
some important work, as before choosing his Apostles. 
Again he retired for prayer after some miraculous ex- 
hibition of his power, as after the feeding of the mul- 
titude with a few loaves and fishes. And, again he is 
represented as praying in the midst of his labors, as 
when in the midst of his discourse to the Jews, he sent 
up a petition to the Father, and the voice of the Father 
was heard in answer, so that some thought it had thun- 
dered, and others that an angel had spoken to him. 
He prayed for himself. "Who in the days of his flesh 
when he had offered up prayers and supplications with 
strong crying and tears unto him that was able to save 
him from death, and was heard in that he feared." 
He prayed for others. And the Lord said, "Simon, 
Simon, behold Satan hath desired to have you that he 
may sift' you as wheat. But I have prayed for thee that 
thy faith fail not." "I pray for them — neither pray 
I for these alone, but for them also which should be- 
lieve on me through their word." He prayed in the 
agony of the garden. He prayed in the glory of the 
transfiguration. He commanded men always to pray. 
He taught us how to pray and what to pray for. He 
gave us an example of prayer. 

But the subject I wish more especially to consider 
now is the nature and value of prayer itself, as it stands 
forth revealed to us in the life of Christ ; the meaning, 
the power, the worth of prayer as signified to us by 
the fact that Christ v/as a Man of Prayer. The im- 
portance of prayer as an element of the spiritual life 
cannot be overestimated. The many exhortations and 
encouragements to pray contained in the word of God, 






SERMONS. 3O9 

and the universal experience of God's people in all 
ages, and in all circumstances, demonstrate that prayer 
is a necessity of true religion, an essential function of 
its vitality. As much as on any one thing, the pros- 
perity of the spiritual life depends on earnestness and 
faithfulness in prayer. And a man's estimate of that 
life in its breadth, its obligations, and its privileges 
may be indicated almost infallibly by the estimate 
which he places on the necessity, the value, the power 
of prayer. Every consideration, therefore, which ele- 
vates and enlarges this estimate, cannot help prov- 
ing eminently useful, if rightly applied. And I know 
of no consideration which so 'highly exalts the dig- 
nity of this duty as its observance by Christ. In- 
deed one of the grand results accomplished by the 
incarnation of the Love of God, has been the exalta- 
tion of every duty, of every virtue, of every holy feel- 
ing and holy deed, to a dignity which it could never 
have reached had it been left to human performance 
alone. If we wish to measure human duties and 
human virtues at their highest and their best, we must 
measure them by the standard to which Christ has 
raised them. We have scarcely known them until we 
know them in his life. Let us look at Prayer then as 
a part of the life of Jesus, and try to discover what we 
may learn by so regarding it. 

And first consider the testimony which the prayers 
of Jesus furnish to the intrinsic efficacy of prayer, or 
the reality of prayer as a power influencing God. This 
conception of prayer is one that is altogether repugnant 
to the spirit of unbelief. That view of man which de- 
nies his all-sufficiency in himself, which inculcates his 
entire dependence upon God, arouses the pride of man 
to the bitterest opposition. That view of prayer which 
most completely and absolutely recognizes this depend- 



310 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

ence is rejected with scorn. Speculative difficulties and 
scientific objections are urged against it. God — it is said 
— is perfect ; self-containing and self-contained, self-suf- 
ficient and self-energizing: all his motive powers are 
within. He can not be moved from without. If he 
could he would not be perfect. How can the finite in- 
fluence the Infinite ? Moreover, God's plan is perfect. 
His will is unchangeable. His laws, the laws of nature, 
the expressions of his will, are inflexible, because per- 
fect. Man change God's plan? Man by his prayers 
interfere with the operations of his laws ? The thought 
is folly. Special providences, special answers to prayer 
are an absurdity, an impossibility. 

Listen to the latest exposition of the theory, given 
by one who is justly admired for the brilliancy of his 
scientific speculations and the glowing eloquence in 
which they are set forth, but for whom we can not help 
regretting that on this point, at least, he did not al- 
low faith to teach him what science has failed to under- 
stand. "A miracle," he tell us, "is strictly defined 
as an invasion of the law of the conservation of en- 
ergy. To create or annihilate matter would be deemed 
on all hands a miracle. The creation or annihilation of 
energy would be equally a miracle to those who un- 
derstand the principle of conservation. Hence arises 
the skepticism of scientific men when called upon to 
join in national prayer for changes in the economy of 
nature. But while prayer is thus impotent in external 
nature, it may react with beneficent power upon the 
human mind. That prayer produces its effect, benign 
or otherwise, on him who prays, is not only as indu- 
bitable as the law of conservation itself, but it will prob- 
ably be found to illustrate that law in its ultimate ex- 
pansion." 

Is this all? Is this the last word of science on the 






SERMONS. 3 1 1 

sweetest, divinest exercise of the soul, on this delight- 
ful privilege of prayer, that it is only the ultimate ex- 
pansion of the law of conservation? 

Is prayer a power for no other reason than this, that 
no particle of force can be lost, that the energy which 
goes forth in prayer, although it has no power to move 
God, or his Laws, reacts on him who prays, and thus 
is saved? What a petty, pitiable conception! Ah! ye 
who worship at the shrine of nature, ye who pay your 
cold and formal homage to Fate, to Law, as ye call it, 
think you that with the Bible in our hands, with God's 
exceeding great and manifold and precious promises 
spread out before us, with all the manifestations which 
he has given of himself as the Hearer of Prayer, with 
all the urgent invitations which he addresses to us to 
plead with him, and to importune his power and com- 
passion, with all the evidences which the experience 
of believers and the history of the church furnish of 
special answers to prayer, we can take up with this 
miserable pretense, this mocking of true prayer ? For 
what is prayer on the theory just mentioned but mock- 
ery, God and man playing a part? Prayer to God? 
There is no such thing on such a theory. It is prayer 
to self. God is but a blank wall against which the 
prayer is projected that it may rebound to him who 
sends it forth. " Draw nigh to God and he will draw 
nigh to you," says the Blessed Book. Yes, there is a 
reciprocal movement of God and his child in true prayer, 
each drawing to the other. But according to this phi- 
losophy, falsely so called, the diviner half of this pre- 
cious truth, that which teaches that God really responds 
to prayer, and is drawn by it, is a mere delusion. How 
then can I pray to God ? The very soul of true prayer, 
truth, earnestness, simplicity, trustful communion of 
heart with heart, is gone. When I truly pray I believe 



312 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

that God hears me : I believe that he will answer me : 
I take his promise just as it is, as meaning all that it 
says, yea, and more than I can comprehend it to say or 
to mean. I use it not as the gymnast uses his rings 
and ropes to strengthen his muscles, but as a power to 
move God. I believe that it does move the Heart of 
my Father in Heaven, and that every attribute of his 
Godhood is at the service of his Son to answer my 
prayer. If in all this I am mistaken then I can not 
pray ; I will not pray. I will not mock the Infinite 
One with words which have no meaning. If I can not 
pray to him, I will not pray through him to myself. If 
he is not to be moved by my entreaties, I will not de- 
grade him to be the dead inert mechanism by means 
of which I accomplish my spiritual exercises. 

What I want is not the reaction of my own soul from 
an Infinite vis Inertia which I call God, but the action 
of God on my soul. But let us turn from these super- 
ficial speculations of men, to the words and life of the 
Son of God. And first, his words. Look at the 
model of prayer which he has given us. Does that 
look like a charm, an incantation, to be muttered over 
for the sake of its reactive influence ? The petition — 
" Give us day by day our daily bread," does that mean 
anything ? Does God really give us our bread ? Do 
we not get it by the observance of physical and social 
laws? Is there any need of asking for it? Is not 
praying that he would give us our daily bread interfer- 
ing with the fixed irreversible laws of nature, the law 
of conservation of force, and what not, fully as much as 
praying for any other material or spiritual good ? 

Not only that, but Christ exhorts us to importunity 
in prayer. He encourages us to believe that the 
Infinite Friend we have in heaven can be prevailed 
upon by the urgency of our pleadings, that he will 



SERMONS. 313 

yield to human importunity, and grant what he would 
not have granted without it. Does not that imply a 
power in prayer beyond its power on the man himself 
who utters it ? Did he not tell his Disciples that 
prayer had power to cast out devils, those even which 
would not depart from men when commanded to do so 
in the name of Christ ? Were they not to pray that 
their flight from the calamities impending over the 
nation should not be in the winter nor on the Sabbath 
day? Does not that pre-suppose the power and the 
willingness on the part of God, to dispose of the events 
of life in answer to prayer ? 

Did he not say to Peter, that if he desired, he might 
obtain through prayer more than twelve legions of 
angels to deliver him out of the hands of the Jews? 
Would not that have been a miracle, what the mate- 
rialism of to-day would call an impossibility? So much 
for the test of Christ's words. But more than all, 
look at his example. Remember how diligently and 
earnestly he prayed ; how he was wont to go forth, 

" Beneath the moonlight, through the lines 
Of trembling olive leaves, to where the path 
Came sudden out upon the open hill ; 
Then he stood waiting till the flame from heaven 
Lighted upon the inward sacrifice 
Of thoughts most pure, and then the holy words 
Came musically forth upon the night, 
More sweet than tinkling Kedron on the pipe 
Of distant nightingale ; or on the cliff 
Above the tossing lake He prayed and stood, 
And through the flight of jarring elements 
Came unimpeded gliding swiftly down, 
From the Father's hand a healing drop of peace 
Upon his wounded soul. On mountain heights 
All the mid-hours of night, with serried crags 
Towering in the moonlight overhead, 
And through a channeled dell stretching away, 
The plains of Galilee seen from afar, 
Till morn alone he prayed — whether the cup 
Of self-determined suffering passed athwart 
His forward vision and the Father's wrath 



314 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

Upon his human soul pressed heavily, 
Or for the welfare of his chosen flock 
He wrestled in an agony of prayer, 
That their faith fail not." 

Were not these prayers realities? Was he simply 
playing a part in them ? When in Gethsemane, ' ' being 
in an agony, he prayed more earnestly," was he but 
going through certain forms of devotion, that his soul 
might become purer, stronger, more resigned? When 
he prayed with supplications, aye, with strong suppli- 
cation and with tears, yea with tears of blood, was 
there in his prayer nothing more than that which mate- 
rialism finds in prayer? Ah! did not his whole soul 
grapple with the throne of omnipotence ? Did not his 
whole being wrestle with God ? And when he was 
heard in that he feared, did not he feel that prayer is a 
power with God? 

This then is the conclusion to which we must come 
with the life and words of Christ before us; God is 
moved by prayer. Christ believed this, and we believe 
in Christ. We do not believe that there is anything 
in this truth which is in the least contradictory to true 
science. We only say, when one comes to us in the 
name of science and tells us, ' ' Your idea of prayer is 
unphilosophical and false" — we believe that Christ 
knew what prayer is, as no other man has ever known; 
We believe that whatever views he entertained of his 
person, all must confess that no one ever drew nearer 
to God than he, and that what Christ found in prayer 
lies in prayer. And how full of consolation and inspi- 
ration is this thought ! Prayer is the same for us as it 
was for Christ. Yes, if we go to God in Christ, in the 
name of Christ, in the faith of Christ, in the spirit of 
Christ, we can pray to God with the power of Christ 
in our prayer. 

But, I remark, in the next place, that the prayers of 



SERMONS. 3 I 5 

Christ acquire great significance when taken in connec- 
tion with the fact that he himself heard and answered 
prayer. 

Because Christ was a man of prayer, it has been 
argued he must have been less than God. He 
could have been nothing more than man, nothing 
more, at least, than a created being. What, then, shall 
we say to the fact that he allowed himself to be prayed 
to, that he heard prayer, prayer for temporal good, 
prayer for spiritual good, prayer for sight, hearing, 
health for the body, prayer for pardon, faith, life for 
the soul? Can any one but God hear such prayers? 
Would Christ, pure and truthful, as all confess him to 
be, have stood in the place of God, and seemed to hear 
prayer, being only man? 

What shall we say, moreover, to this other fact, that 
Christ not only heard prayer, but answered it ? " Who- 
soever cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out." 
No one ever did go to him without finding what he 
sought. Men prayed to him for forgiveness, they ob- 
tained it. They prayed for faith, they received it. 
They prayed for peace, and their peace was like a river. 
They prayed for Eternal Life, and it was given to them. 
They prayed for those things which God alone can 
give, and according to their faith it was done unto them. 
In return they gave to him the homage and devotion 
which God claims for himself, and Christ accepted it. 

But how do you explain this, you say, that one and the 
same being should both pray himself, and hear prayer? 
We do not explain it. It belongs to the mystery of 
Christ's personality ; for there is a mystery here, but it 
is the one mystery which solves for us all the myste- 
ries of life and eternity. In him are united in an in- 
comprehensible manner, truths, powers, realities, so far 
removed from each other, that they seem to be in oppo- 



3 l6 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

sition ; yet we can not dispense with any one of them ; 
each is in itself precious and necessary ; and their union 
in Christ gives us something still more precious and 
glorious. 

It is so here. Christ the Man of Prayer ! How we 
cherish the thought ! Christ the God of Prayer ! 
How we rejoice in that thought! And that it is the 
same Christ who is both the one and the other, is there 
not something unspeakably precious in that thought? 
Think of it a moment. Behold a being who partakes 
so far of the lowliness of our nature that he knows 
what it is to yearn and to agonize in prayer — who at 
the same time partakes so far of the exaltation of God, 
that he knows what it is to dispense the gifts of God 
to men in answer to prayer ! What a bond of union 
between Omnipotence and weakness, between God's 
throne and human want ! How does prayer itself 
seem lifted up until it becomes itself almost Divine, 
something akin to the Power and Love which reign 
on high. 

Think of this again. If the Son of God heard 
prayer during the days of his humiliation, while he 
himself was wont to offer prayer — how much more is 
he the Hearer of Prayer now when he is exalted to 
the right hand of God? If when he was as a root out 
of dry ground, he had power on earth to forgive sins, 
how much more now when the light of his presence 
is the glory of heaven ? If when he himself was a man 
of sorrows, and acquainted with grief, he could give 
rest to the weary, and peace to the distressed, how 
much more, now when the joys of Eternity and the 
blessedness of the Father's bosom are his once more? 
If while clothed with weakness and suffering, he could 
minister strength to the faint, how much more now 
when all power in heaven and on earth is in his hands ? 



SERMONS. 317 

If on the accursed tree he could hear the prayer of 
the dying malefactor, and assure him of Paradise, how 
much more can he hear and save now, when he is 
raised far above all principalities, and powers, and do- 
minions? What encouragement to faith and to prayer 
then does this thought bring us? 

Let us consider again what the character of Christ as 
a Man of Prayer suggests in regard to the dependence 
of the spiritual life and of spiritual progress on prayer. 
That prayer is indispensable to the culture and develop- 
ment of the spiritual life is known to all who have 
sought in sincerity to live such a life: its value as an 
element of holiness and of spiritual power has been too 
deeply felt by all such to be questioned. But how 
greatly is its importance enhanced by the reflection that 
even the spiritual life of Jesus, whose life was holiness 
itself, was dependent on the power of prayer. 

It is true that in some respects, the holiness of Jesus 
was different from that which is possible to us. It was 
spontaneous, perfect, infallible, it partook of the sanc- 
tity of the Divine Life. But if Divine, it was also hu- 
man. It partook in some respects at least of the growth 
of his manhood. It was determined by the laws and 
conditions of his human development. It was aided by 
the means which God has ordered for the culture of 
holy wisdom and power. Pre-eminent among these 
means for him as for all others was prayer. By prayer 
his heart was strengthened against temptation. By 
using and pleading the Father's promises, his faith, his 
trust in the Father was confirmed. By much frequent- 
ing of the secret sanctuary the beauty of his holiness 
was kept untarnished and undimmed. By constant 
communion with the Father his zeal, his activity, his 
love received ever new supplies of inspiration. None 
has ever worked for God like Christ, for none has ever 



3 l8 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

prayed to God like him. And now was prayer all this 
to Christ, and can it be nothing to you and me ? Did 
he derive such great benefit from it, and can we dis- 
pense with it ? We who are so full of sin, who live in 
a world so full of temptation to wrong, whose hearts 
are so susceptible to the influences of evil, who find it 
so hard to trust in God, to believe in truth, to be ever 
loyal to the right, to cherish a good thought when it 
comes to us, to act on a right motive when it springs 
up within us, to keep ourselves unspotted from the 
world — can we do without prayer? And yet we who 
need it so much more than Christ, how little we make 
of it compared with him ! 

But the character of Jesus as a Man of Prayer is still 
further an important link in the bond of brotherhood by 
which he is united to us. 

This Jesus — this Saviour — this Friend — how truly he 
is one of us ! — how truly he is our brother! Not only 
did he learn as we learn, think as we think, feel as we 
feel, talk as we do, share our lot, our infirmities, our 
trials, rejoice with those who rejoiced, weep with those 
that wept, but he also prayed as it is our privilege to 
pray. Not altogether indeed as we do. We have to 
pray for much for which he had no need to pray. He 
had no confessions of sin to make. The cry for mercy, 
the plea for pardon, the prayer for reconciliation never 
went up from him. Here indeed the difference between 
his prayers and ours is infinitely great. Sin over- 
shadows our life here so much that our prayers here 
are mainly an appeal to be delivered from it: and we 
sometimes feel as though if we were only rid of sin 
there would be no further need of prayer. But surely 
this is a great mistake. Sin, alas ! contracts, impover- 
ishes our prayers, as it does everything : and to be 
under the necessity of using prayer, almost altogether 



SERMONS. 3 I 9 

as a means of being healed from sin, is to be in the 
condition of the sick man who uses all his time, his 
propert}^, his skill and strength, all the joys and com- 
forts of nature and of providence to get rid of his sick- 
ness, when if he were only well he might use them all 
to enlarge his powers and his joys to aid him in becom- 
ing a more perfect man. Ah! if only we were well! 
What enlargement, what powers, what enjoyment, 
what life would be ours ! What prayers we should 
offer ! Prayers for opportunities and blessings of which 
we have no conception now! Could we but hear the 
prayers of heaven! W T hat, you say, prayers in heaven? 
Most assuredly. We shall no more see our Father 
there than here. We shall be nearer to him, it is true; 
but that will be in part because we shall be able to 
pray to him more perfectly, to commune with him more 
lovingly. We shall not be all the time looking on 
Christ with the bodily eye, but we shall come nearer to 
him also in prayer, and in the sweet intimacy of spir- 
itual fellowship. Could we then only hear some of 
those heavenly prayers ! — or better still — could we have 
entered one of those holy shrines where Jesus was wont 
to meet with the Father, and have heard him pray! 
Then we should have known what it is to pray. — But, 
why wish for this ? We have one of his prayers in this 
dear Book — and oh! how we should thank the Holy 
Spirit for it! one of his last prayers, offered up for his 
beloved ones ! Ah ! my friends, this is enough, and 
more than enough for us now. In this life we can no 
more than just begin to understand this one outpouring 
utterance of our Brother's heart, to decipher here and 
there a character in which is traced that wondrous 
mystery of Divine Majesty, Humility, Strength, Ten- 
derness, Holiness, Love ! 

Yet after all — think of it ! — how much do the prayers 



320 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

of Jesus have in common with our own ! The yearning 
for sympathy, the longing for love, the expression of 
trust, the utterance of resignation, the desire of good 
for others, the prayer for the Divine blessing on his la- 
bors, for strength to work and to suffer, the appeal for 
help, yes, the cry of a soul in darkness, forsaken of 
God, — all this is in his prayers. In all this we find our 
Brother — in all he is our Fore-runner at the mercy- 
seat. Ah ! yes, it is our privilege to come very near to 
Christ in prayer. We sometimes wish that we might 
visit those spots which were hallowed by his presence 
on earth. Could we but gaze on the scene which once 
met his eye, could we but tread reverently in his foot- 
steps, we fancy we might draw nearer to him than we 
have ever done yet. But we need not go to Palestine 
for that. Bethlehem, Galilee, Nazareth, Bethany, Je- 
rusalem, Olivet, Gethsemane, we might visit them all, 
and be further off from Jesus than before. But before 
our Father's throne — there we meet, there we embrace, 
there his heart beats to ours. 

" There is a place where Jesus sheds 
The oil of gladness on our heads ; 
A place than all besides more sweet, 
It is the blood-bought mercy-seat." 

Think then as you go to the mercy-seat, Christ has been 
there before you ; as you speak the name Father, Christ 
has spoken it before you; as you pray for consolation, 
for light, for Divine aid, for the Father's blessing on 
your labors and your sorrows, for the salvation and 
prosperity of those you love, Christ has prayed for all 
those things before you ; and if ever you 'have reason to 
know that God has heard your prayer, rejoice in the 
thought that the same heart which went out toward his 
Son, is also going out in the fulness of its riches toward 
you. 



SERMONS. 321 

But still further: Christ himself was brought by his 
prayers into closer sympathy with us. Not only 
does the assurance of the fact that he was a man of 
prayer, assist us to recognize, to trust and to love him 
as a brother, but it was also one of the conditions and 
constituents of his brotherhood and sympathy. Christ 
became man that he might realize more intimately the 
weaknesses and wants of his brethren. He can be 
touched with the feelings of our infirmities. As it is 
said that he learned obedience by the things which he 
suffered, so it may be said that by his human experi- 
ences he learned sympathy, and prayer was to him one 
of the most precious of these experiences. Foras- 
much as he was tried in all things like as we are, for- 
asmuch as he prayed in so many things like as we 
do, prayed to the same Father, in the same human 
speech, out of the same sense of weakness and want, 
for the same blessings, yes, prayed for us, as well as 
with us, his love for us is something more than it would 
have been without this fellowship of experience. There 
is nothing which conserves human love like prayer. 
Nothing which gives it a holier tone — a heavenly in- 
spiration, which causes its sacredness to be more deeply 
felt. The love which has never clung to the Throne of 
Love, whose inmost soul is not a prayer, knows not 
what it misses. Oh ! when the mother bears her child 
to the mercy-seat, dedicates it to God with prayerful 
love, she loves that child as she never did before, as she 
never could have loved it otherwise. She loved it be- 
fore as her own, she loves it henceforth as God's also, 
and therefore more than ever her own ; for what we 
give to God becomes doubly ours. My friends, if you 
wish to make your love all that it can become, if you 
wish it to attain the utmost beauty, tenderness, power 
and perfection of which it is capable, convert it into 



322 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

prayer, take it to God, that he may seal it with his 
smile. If you wish to give to the objects of your affec- 
tion the best, the purest, the most lasting love, take that 
love to God, leave it with God, commune with it in the 
presence of God, pray it into the heart of God. 

Pray your love ; thus you will deepen it, enlarge it, 
strengthen it, exalt it continually. For thus did Christ. 
His love was one which prayed for its objects. If you 
would know how Christ loved his own, see how he 
prayed for them. Read that memorable prayer which 
the Beloved Disciple John has recorded for us in his 
Gospel in the seventeenth chapter. See what things he 
prayed for. "That they may be one in us: one, even 
as we are one : that they may be with me where I am : 
that they may behold my glory which thou hast given 
me:" — and last of all and greatest of all : "that the 
love wherewith thou hast loved me may be in them, 
and I in them. " Yes, and he loved them through pray- 
ing for them. His prayers were prayers of love: his 
love was the love of prayer. And as on earth so in 
heaven : which brings us to the final thought of this 
discourse. 

The prayers of Christ are valuable as an earnest of 
his heavenly intercession on behalf of all who come to 
God in his name. We may be sure Christ did not 
cease to pray when he left earth. A work in which he 
delighted so much while here, he will delight in while 
there is any least need of it, any least good to be secured 
by it, for the least of his brethren. While there is a 
weary, struggling, hard-beset soul in need of strength 
and comfort, Christ will pray for that soul. He prays 
for each one whom he loves ; for is he not the Good 
Shepherd, who knows and calls by name every one of 
his flock ? 



SERMONS. 323 

" The names of all his saints he bears 
Deep graven on his heart." 

You remember how he prayed for Peter. Foresee- 
ing bis danger, the special trial which was about to 
befall him, he prayed for a special blessing for him. 
"I have prayed for thee, that thy strength fail not." 
And if for one, why not for the rest, for John, James, 
Thomas, Philip, for each and every one of them? 
And if on earth, why not in heaven ? Is he not the 
merciful and faithful High Priest who ever liveth to 
make intercession ? And if for each one of his dis- 
ciples, why not for each one of us ? 

Yes, for me, for me he careth 

With a brother's tender care ; 
Yes, with me, with me he shareth 

Every burden, every fear. 

Yes, for me he standeth pleading 

At the mercy seat above ; 
Ever for me interceding, 

Constant in untiring love. 

Oh, for an interest in his intercession ; for a place in 
his prayers ! Is this your desire, friends ? Then all 
you have to do is to go to him, to trust in him, to lay 
your wants, your cares, your sorrows at his feet, and 
at once he will make them his own. He will take 
your prayers, make them his own, and so present 
them to the Father. Seek to come into sympathy 
with him as the Man of Prayer, and you will find 
yourself in communion with him as the God of prayer, 
receiving of his fullness. Frequent that secret sanctuary 
of devotion which Christ visited so constantly, and 
you will inherit his peace and joy. 

Your Father who seeth in secret will reward you 
openly. 



XV. 

CHRIST REVEALING THE FATHER. 

John 14: 6. " No man cometh unto the Father but by me." 

"Lord, show us the Father and it sufficeth us," was 
the earnest and fervent appeal of one of Christ's dis- 
ciples immediately after these words were uttered by 
the Master. Ah ! how often has the cry gone up out 
of the heart of humanity ! " Show us the Father ! " 
after whom through all our misery and weakness we 
reach, whose infinite love alone can satisfy us, show us 
the Father and it is enough. We want no more. 
Having found him we have found our All. But have 
we not seen the Father? Do we not know at least 
where to find him? "Show us the Father," said 
Philip : and yet how near the Father was to him. 
How strangely blind were Philip and his brethren. 
1 ' Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou 
not known me, Philip ? He that hath seen me hath seen 
the Father." How then came Philip to ask the question ? 
Evidently it was not enough to see Christ with the bodily 
eye. To see the man Jesus, was not to see the Father, 
for of the multitudes who did see him in Galilee, how 
few saw the Father! Ah, there was a knowing of Jesus 
which went beyond seeing Jiim. " If ye had known me, 
ye should have known my Father also, and from hence- 
forth ye know him and have seen him." 

But Jesus says more than this to his disciples. Not 
(324) 



SERMONS. 325 

only is it true that he who hath known Jesus, hath 
known the Father ; but, moreover, without knowing 
Jesus, we cannot know the Father. "No man cometh 
unto the Father but by me." No man findeth the 
Father save in the Son. Had Christ never come into 
the world, the race would have lost its Father, we 
should have been orphans for evermore. 

This seems to you, perhaps, difficult of belief, at 
least of comprehension. It may seem to you, perhaps, 
that it is only a more forcible and emphatic way of say- 
ing that Christ has made it much easier to find the 
Father, that in Christ much more of the Father is 
visible than elsewhere. It may seem to you that there 
is much outside of Christianity which tells us of the 
Father, much which points to him in nature ; much 
which reminds of him in Providence ; much which 
bears witness to him in the heart. 

But let me ask you to think how much these evi- 
dences owe to the witness of Christ. You forget that 
Nature, Providence, Experience, the world without you, 
and the world within you, all stand revealed in the light 
which shines from the sun of righteousness. 

Christianity fills the air. You see through it; you 
hear through it ; you feel through it. Infidelity itself 
has something of this unconscious Christianity in it. 
It is of a higher order than it would be otherwise. 
That which, but for the coming of Christ, would have 
been shadowy, confused, discordant, has through him 
become clear, intelligible, and harmonious. He inter- 
prets to you the mysterious hieroglyphics of nature, 
the dark enigmas of Providence, the vague yearnings 
of your own heart. 

No ! these words of Jesus need no modification, no 
extenuation. No man comes to the Father, no man 
draws so near to God that he can say, ' ' I have found 



326 LLEWEYLN IOAN EVANS. 

the Father," but by Christ. In the darkness into 
which Christ has never shone, one may ask indeed, is 
there not a Father? One may hope that there is a 
Father; one may cast himself on the unknown God, 
trusting blindly that he may fall into a Father's arm, 
but it will be a leap in the dark ; no one has found the 
Father, no one embraces him with loving confidence, 
no one can know that the Highest to whom he clings 
is indeed a Father, who has not known Christ, and who 
is not in Christ, even as Christ is in the Father, and the 
Father in him. 

For consider how many and how great are the diffi- 
culties in the way of our finding our Heavenly Father 
without the help of Christ. 

Take first the idea of God as it seems to lie originally 
in the mind. Think of that mysterious being to whom 
the soul looks up with anxious questioning, as He is in 
Himself, or rather as our minds if left to themselves 
would be constrained to think of him. Reflect on his 
infinitude. Try to grasp the idea of a Being without 
limitations. You cannot. The mind is lost in attempt- 
ing it. And still you are constrained to believe in this 
Infinitude. You are compelled to believe that there 
must be a being, to whose nature and life you can set 
no bounds, to whom there can be nothing beyond him- 
self, nothing above himself, nothing without himself, 
who is beset by no imperfections, to whom not only 
nothing is impossible, but nothing is hard, obscure, re- 
mote, who sees all things, who understands all things, 
who can do all things, who holds all things within him- 
self, who knows infinitely, who loves infinitely, who 
enjoys infinitely, who is without beginning and without 
end, from everlasting to everlasting. The longer you 
meditate on his nature, the more you struggle to grasp 
the secret of his personality, to comprehend the pleni- 






SERMONS. 327 

tude of his perfection, the more hopeless does the en- 
deavor become, the more awful, the more inaccessible, 
the more incomprehensible does he seem to you until 
the idea of him haunts you as an Infinite Spectre, or 
darkens it as the dread shadows of Eternity. 

1 ' Behold the nations are as a drop of the bucket, and 
are counted as the small dust of the balance, behold 

he taketh up the isles as a very little thing 

All nations before him are as nothing, and they are 
counted to him less than nothing, and vanity." Com- 
pared with his greatness the universe is an infinitesimal ; 
compared with his .fulness of life and power, all life is 
infinitesimal and all power weakness ; compared with the 
infinitude of Being in him — nothing is: He is : his name 
— Jehovah — I am — who says : " Before the worlds were, 
I am," when heaven and earth have passed away, I am. 

And now contrast yourself with this Being. See the 
limitations which hedge you in on all sides. How 
narrow the little round in which you move compared with 
the circles and cycles of his existence. How you shrink 
into nothingness in presence of his greatness ! Which- 
ever way you go — how soon you find the end, the bar- 
rier which stops you, saying : thus far and no farther ! 
How many difficulties there are which you cannot sur- 
mount ! How many mysteries which you cannot pene- 
trate ! But yesterday you were not — tomorrow where, 
what will you be? You live in but a moment of time, 
the Past is gone from you, the Future evades you. 
All around you spreads the shoreless ocean of existence, 
you but a drop in its surface. Beneath you are the 
unfathomable depths; above you tower the firmaments 
and heavens, immensity rising above immensity, as 
Alps on Alps arise, you but an atom drifting between. 
That frail organism which your personality inhabits be- 
comes a little deranged, and you are a raving maniac. 



328 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

That brittle thread which holds soul and body together 

snaps and for you the universe is changed; Eternity 

swallows you up in itself. 

Such is God — such are you ! He the Infinite, you 

the finite. He the Eternal, you the ephemeral. He 

the Omnipresent, you the atom. He the All-seeing 

and All-knowing — dwelling in the light which no man 

can approach — you 

" An infant crying in the night 
And with no language but a cry." 

He, the Supreme, the All-perfect, the All-victorious, 
whose will is Law, whose Decree is Destiny. You the 
blind, the erring, the sport of circumstances, the vic- 
tim of events. He needing nothing, you needing every- 
thing. Such is He ; such are you. Dare you say — 
He is my Father ! Is he not for you an incompre- 
hensible Terror? Is he not rather one whose name, 
like those men of old, you dare not pronounce, a 
Being whom — you feel — to look on would be death, 
to touch would be annihilation? 

But, you will say, God does not abandon us to the 
fancies and imaginations of unaided intellect. He has 
not left himself without witness. "The invisible things 
of him from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, 
being understood by the things that are made, even his 
Eternal power and God-head." And this revelation of 
himself in nature, you will say, has in it much to soften 
the sterner features of the image which the mind forms 
when left to itself, much to bring God and man together. 
Nature reveals to us the Goodness of God, the interest 
which he takes in his creatures, the care with which he 
watches over them, and thus you think, perhaps, we 
may be led to think of God as our Father. 

You will not forget, however, that we see Nature in 
the light reflected on it from the revelation which is 






SERMONS. 329 

through Christ. But how is it when you confine your- 
self strictly to the teachings of Nature ? Ask yourself 
what is the most obvious relation which God sustains 
to Nature? The answer will be that of Creator to the 
work which He himself has made. But is this re- 
lation one that suggests that of a Father? Is it not 
rather one which considered in itself alone, seems to 
exclude it? Take what is involved in the idea of a 
Creator. It involves in the act of Creation, a power 
unique in itself, a power which involves in itself all 
other power. It involves unlimited authority over that 
which has been created, and right to dispose of it as 
the Maker wills. It involves the infinite inferiority of 
the creature to the Creator ; for it is inconceivable that 
God should produce another Being like himself, or 
equal to himself. There is, perhaps, no power in the 
Deity which so far transcends human power, none which 
so strikingly impresses on the mind the immeasurable 
superiority of God, as this power of creation, of abso- 
lute origination. With nothing but the light of nature 
to guide him, how can man claim such a power as his 
Father? Himself a creature, how can he claim Sonship 
to the Creator? 

You will remember, however, that man is a creature 
in the image of God, and for this reason he is in a 
special sense, as no other creature is, the Child of God. 
But how do we know this? Whence have we derived 
that idea ? Take away that revelation of which Christ 
is at once the center and the crown, and what founda- 
tion have we for such a belief? 

Let us admit that the consciousness seems to have 
been felt in a measure, when only the light of nature 
has prevailed ; that the heathen have spoken of a pater- 
nal character of their divinities ; that heathen poets, as 
Paul quotes one of them, speak of men as the offspring 



330 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

of God. But the paternal character which heathenism 
ascribes to its gods, has scarcely anything in it to re- 
mind us of Him whom Christ calls "My Father and 
your Father." The former is at most nothing more 
than the representation of the First Being in the order 
of existence, the expression of a certain dependence 
and subordination, like that of subjects on their 
rulers, or of tribes on their chiefs. The heathen 
Father — who was he ? Oftentimes it was the tyrant 
who sacrificed his subjects to his cruel caprices, the 
chieftain who sold his dependents like cattle. Hea- 
thenism knows nothing of that filial liberty, that affec- 
tionate trust, that intimate communion, that constant 
sense of an ever near, ever loving Father which the 
Christian experiences. To the great mass of heathen- 
dom, the name Father, as applied to God, is an empty 
name, a dead title. But you will say, it is not in na- 
ture alone that God is revealed. History or Providence, 
as we sometimes call it, is a manifestation of him. In 
the administration of the world's affairs he displays 
those moral attributes, and that personal interest in the 
affairs of men, which incline us to think of Him as our 
Father. 

But here again what is the aspect under which we 
most naturally view God? It is that of Ruler, King, 
Judge. He sits on the throne: the Universe is his 
Kingdom. All creatures are his subjects. He is the 
Supreme Legislator ; he commands, it is the duty of all 
to obey. He is the Arbiter of Events; nothing takes 
place but by his ordinance or permission. He doeth 
according to his will in the armies of heaven and among 
the inhabitants of earth and there is none that can stay 
his hand or say unto him : what doest thou ? He is the 
Supreme Judge who executes all the laws of his king- 
dom, the dispenser of all their rewards and penalties. 



SERMONS. 331 

This is the voice of all History, the testimony of all 
experience concerning God in Providence. It proclaims 
God not as the Father, but as the Sovereign, the Ar- 
biter, the Disposer, the Nemesis. We may say, indeed, 
that his government is a paternal government, that he 
rules as a Father, but what is our warrant for this? 
The Ruler is not necessarily the Father. In human 
governments, at least, the two characters are not 
only separate and distinct, but they often come in con- 
flict, and what do we find then ? What is the duty of 
the magistrate when the interests of the government de- 
mand one course of action, while the Father's affections 
prompt another? The latter must yield to the former. 
If the King, the Judge, yields to the Father, we accuse 
him of weakness, he is unfit to rule. On the other 
hand, in proportion as the Supreme Ruler of the world 
is invested with the more tender and approachable at- 
tributes of a Father, in the same proportion is he di- 
vested of the attributes of an absolute Sovereign. Thus 
it was with the Greeks, the most intellectual heathens 
whom the world has ever known. The more their su- 
preme divinities were clothed with human feelings and 
passions, and brought into contact with human affairs, 
the less were they regarded as the real rulers of the 
world. The real god of the Greek was Fate. And so 
universally. To the mind which has received no light 
from the revelation of God in Christ the world is ruled 
by Fate : either by a Supreme Divinity which is no 
other than Fate personified, or by an impersonal Fate 
against which even the gods rebel in vain. No ! we find 
no Father there. It may be, however, that distrusting 
the intentions and deductions of the intellect, you fall 
back on the instincts of the heart. You say, I believe, 
because I have felt — 



33 2 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

" I found Him not in world or sun, 
Or eagle's wing, or insect's eye, 
Nor through the questions men may try, 
The petty cobwebs we have spun : 
If e'er when faith had fallen asleep 
I heard a voice — ' Believe no more,' 
And heard an ever-breaking shore 
That tumbled in the Godless deep ; 
A warmth within the breast would melt 
The freezing reason's colder part, 
And like a man in wrath the heart 
Stood up and answered — 'I have felt.'" 

Yes, you say these feelings, these yearnings, these 
cravings for a love such as only a Father can give must 
find their justification in the reality toward which they 
reach forth. Far be it from me to undervalue these 
feelings, or to impair their testimony. Cherish it, prize 
it, rejoice in it to the utmost. And were that faith of 
the heart, that faith of instinct sufficient for every 
emergency that can overtake it, you might satisfy your- 
self with it; nothing more would be needed. But 
it is not so. There are times when it fails you, 
there are hours when those yearnings and hopes 
are overwhelmed beneath doubts and fears. Too 
much of life's pilgrimage lies through the valley of the 
shadow of death for a faith which is mere feeling. We 
live in a world where Light and Darkness, Joy and 
Pain, Life and Death hold divided empire. Nature se- 
cretes poison as well as honey. She nourishes the night- 
shade as well as the lily, the upas as well as the vine. 
The forked lightning shoots along the track of the sun- 
beam, blasting and withering. The vulture sweeps in 
the path of the dove; the wolf prowls in the footsteps 
of the lamb. Fierce engines of destruction are ever 
forging and launching forth : subtle elements of death 
are ever brewing and brooding. Tornadoes, volcanoes, 
earthquakes, fire and flood ravage the earth with deso- 
lating fury. Armies of creatures born to prey are tor- 



SERMONS. 333 

hiring and devouring their numberless hecatombs. If 
we could but hear it — one unbroken shriek of agony, 
one eternal wail of woe, is heard amidst the endless 
laughs and songs of nature. The earth is a charnel- 
house: the rocks are the obituaries of untold genera- 
tions that have been crushed into the dust of death. 

The civilizer's spade grinds horribly 

On dead men's bones, and can not turn up soil 

That's otherwise than fetid, all success 

Proves partial failure : all advance implies 

What's left behind : all triumph, something crushed 

At the chariot wheels : all government, some wrong : 

And rich men make the poor who curse the rich, 

Who agonize together : rich and poor 

Under and over in the social spasm 

And crisis of the ages. 

And so the dark tragedy goes on, the strong crush- 
ing the weak, wrong often triumphant, tyranny su- 
preme, fraud successful, bodies preyed on by disease, 
smitten with the pestilence, wasting with hunger, minds 
dwarfed in idiocy or wrecked in insanity, souls crushed 
beneath burdens too heavy to be borne, hearts bleed- 
ing, hopes withered, noble enterprises dashed to dust, 
the innocent bearing the curse of the guilty, lives of 
beautiful promise blighted in the bud, tears of sorrow, 
and sorrows too deep for tears, prayers for a blessing 
that never comes, and prayers for death that comes 
too late, blessings that turn to curses, doubt that turns 
to despair. Ah ! not easy is it for the heart to lift itself 
out of the shadow which these dark problems of exist- 
ence cast upon it. The mere feeling that God is our 
Father, will avail but little against these other feelings, 
these doubts and fears that are rolled upon the mind 
by the dread mysteries which are all about and within 
you. There is still another voice than that of the 
heart coming up from within to which you must give 
heed. It is the voice of conscience. And what does 



334 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

it say ? It tells you that whatever the relations at first 
existing between God and you might have been, these 
relations are altogether changed. It is not now as it 
was in the beginning. You are not now as when you 
first came from God. You have done all in your power 
to break the tie which bound you to God. What if it 
be broken forever f You have repudiated God's pater- 
nal authority over you, you have slighted his paternal 
interest in you, you have spurned his Father's love for 
you, your course tells you that you have deserved to 
be eternally disowned — why should not a just Father 
treat you as you deserve ? You have become as unlike 
to your Father as darkness is unlike light, as sin is un- 
like holiness ; how can a holy God delight in you as his 
child? You left your Father's house and became a child 
of shame. Your course tells you that you have no 
longer any right to his hospitalities, that to cross the 
pure threshold and to enter the sacred precincts where 
he dwells, would be sacrilege. You have dishonored 
your Father's name, you have traduced his glory. 

Your course tells you that to call yourself his child 
would be blasphemy. It interprets against you all the 
portents of nature, and all the terrible facts of life. It 
bids you see in the lightning the bolt of his vengeance, 
and in the pestilence the scourge of his wrath. It 
makes you tremble when his judgements are abroad in 
the earth, and ever and anon whispers to your shudder- 
ing soul — ' ' Thy God is a consuming fire. " What then ? 
Must you yield to despair? This belief in a Divine 
Father, is it no other than an illusion ? This hope that 
you may be the child of an Infinite Love, is it but a 
mockery ? Must you walk in doubt and darkness all 
your days, groping for a hand you never feel, seeking 
for a heart you never find ? No ! no ! no ! One there 



SERMONS. 335 

is whom to see is to see the Father, whom to find is to 
find the Father. 

Behold him ! hear him ! He teaches you to call God 
your Father in Heaven. He proclaims his Fatherhood 
to the world. He brings everything into connection 
with his Fatherhood. The earth and all its creatures 
are the Father's. All the events of life are the Father's 
dispensations. Seeing, as we all see, these dark enig- 
mas of existence, these ills and miseries which abound, 
yea, looking deeper into their awful mysteries than it is 
possible for us to look, he still announces not only with 
confidence, but with joy, that God is our Father. And 
he is a Teacher, the like of whom the world has never 
seen. He speaks as man never spoke. He speaks 
with an authority which all acknowledge. 

But this is not all. You doubt, perchance, whether 
the testimony of the wisest of teachers is sufficient of 
itself on a matter of so great importance. The wisest 
may err. The purest may be under a delusion. His 
very purity and spirituality may perchance cause him 
to be more susceptible to the power of dreams and 
ideal conceptions, beautiful in themselves, but with no 
foundation in reality. Here again, you receive a new 
assurance from the testimony of Jesus that he has come 
immediately from the Father to tell the world of Him 
who sent him. He speaks as the special messenger of 
the Most High, divinely commissioned to tell us what 
we most need to know of God. He speaks the words 
which he received of God. . He tells us what he has 
seen with God. All his utterances and all his actions 
are such as the Father has taught him, that he may 
teach us. He claims all this, and you feel that his 
claims must be true, for otherwise Jesus himself is 
a self-contradiction. His life is a falsehood, his mis- 
sion a delusion. This it is which gives significance to 



336 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

his life, which seals his words with authority. He is 
from the Father to speak of the Father to men. If this 
be not true, nothing more is left us to believe in. His- 
tory is an impossibility; character is an ignis fatuus ; 
the best in human life, the deepest in human conscious- 
ness, the grandest in human aspiration is vanity of vani- 
ties. If anything is true, this must be true, that when 
he speaks, it is God's word that we hear, when he tells 
us of God, it is God telling us of himself. When he 
assures us that God is our Father, it is God assuring us, 
" I am your Father." 

Do you need anything more than this ? Do you de- 
mand an assurance from the inner depths of the Divine 
Nature ? Do you fear that the interval between God and 
anyone less than himself is so immense that you can- 
not trust the deliverances of any inferior being? Behold 
then in Christ one who is not only sent forth by God, 
but who has come forth out of God. Yea ! he is the 
Son of God : — not as a creature, for he was with God in 
the beginning, before the world was : — but the Son of 
God as a Divine Being — the only begotten, the Eternal 
Son of God. He calls God Father in a peculiar sense, 
He teaches us to say — "Our Father," he says "My 
Father." — "I am the Son of God," he says. "I and 
my Father are one." And if you thoughtfully consider 
his words and his life, you are constrained to believe in 
these declarations. He speaks of God as no other than 
the only and well beloved son of God could speak. He 
speaks to God as no other would dare to speak ; he 
claims, he enjoys, he exhibits, he manifests, a oneness 
with God to which it would be blasphemy in any other 
to make any pretension. He, the Lowly in Heart, de- 
mands for himself what belongs only to God. The 
heart of God throbs in the life of Christ, and every- 
where it is a Father's heart. He it is who comes to you 



SERMONS. 337 

and says — God is your Father. He knows that God is 
the Father. From Eternity he was in the bosom of that 
Father, he lived in the love of that Father. He knows 
it ; he has tasted it in all its sweetness ; he has enjoyed 
it in all its fulness. He knows that the name Father 
when applied to God is no figure of speech, no empty 
title. 

Is not this enough? Do you still doubt whether 
after all the Father of Christ can be your Father? Be- 
hold in Christ again your brother; bone of your bone 
and flesh of your flesh. The Son of God, he is at the 
same time the Son of Man. "The brightness of the 
Father's glory, and the express image of his person," 
he is yet one of our family. He is crowned with infi- 
nite perfection, radiant with a majesty before which 
heaven veils its eyes ; and yet we see his brow wet with 
bloody sweat, and his eyes with human tears. He is 
King of Kings and Lord of Lords, and yet he is not 
ashamed to call us brethren. He is my Lord and my 
God, and yet he is my brother. He it is who says: 
"Go to my brethren and say unto them: I ascend unto 
my Father and your Father, to my God and your God." 
The same God, the same Father, — the same Father's 
love to trust in, and to bless you unto the end. 

Do you still hesitate, do you still tremble as you ap- 
proach this God ? Ah ! I know the reason why. You 
remember the sin which has alienated you from him. 
You feel the guilt which rises between you and him. 
But look again to Christ. Does he repel sinners? He 
calls them to him. Does he shun the guilty ? He says 
"Come to me, and I will give you rest!" Does he 
give up the lost? " He came to seek and to save the 
lost." Do you point to your sin? His blood cleanseth 
from all sin. Your guilt ? His cross takes all your guilt 
away. Divine Justice? Nowhere does it shine more 



338 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

brightly than in the sacrifice made on Calvary — The 
Law ? Nowhere is it so fully magnified and made hon- 
orable as in the obedience, the sufferings, and the death 
of the Crucified One. God — He is your Father, he 
stands with open arms to receive you ; he beseeches you 
to return and be reconciled to himself; the door is open, 
the feast is prepared, the table is spread, the welcome, 
the ring, the robe — all is ready. You have but to 
throw yourself down at his feet, crying ' ' Father, I have 
sinned and am no more worthy to be called thy son," 
— and that is the last you hear of your sins. They are 
forgotten : naught remains for you henceforth, but the 
smiles, the embraces, the entertainments, the compan- 
ionship, the love of a Father who is yours forever. 

And how have you found hirn ? Ah ! need I say ? 
Does not your heart now respond to this declaration — 
"No man cometh unto the Father but by me." Yes, 
it is in Christ that you find your Father, it is in Christ 
that the Father finds his lost child. Your Elder Brother 
brings you to the Father — he brings the Father to you. 

You are accepted in Him. The Father receives you 
for his sake, and loves you in Him — " He is our Peace." 
"If a man loves me," says Jesus, and let each one 
listen to his words — "he will keep my words — and my 
Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and 
make our abode with him." "The Father himself 
loveth you, because ye have loved me." " O righteous 
Father, the world hath not known thee; but I have 
known thee, and these have known that thou hast sent 
me, and I have declared unto them thy name" — Father! 
— "and will declare it: that the love wherewith thou 
hast loved me may be in them, and I in them." 

Oh ! who can comprehend the blessedness of the 
Sons of God? Language fails, imagination fails, Eter- 
nity alone can unfold it. "Now are we the Sons of 






SERMONS. 339 

God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be, but 
we know that when he shall appear we shall be like 
him " — Sons of God now ; like the First-begotten here- 
after. — The lost image restored, the lost Sonship re- 
gained. 

Brother, — forget not the way, there is but one; "I 
am the way: no man cometh to the Father but by me." 
As many as received Him, to them gave he power to 
become the Sons of God. Receive Christ; and you 
find your Father. — Reject Christ and you lose your 
Father — you yourself are lost : you are a wanderer, an 
outcast, an orphan through all Eternity. 



XVI. 

THE YOUTH OF CHRIST. 

Luke 3: 23. "And Jesus himself began to be about thirty years of age" [or more 
correctly] "And Jesus, himself was, when beginning (his ministry) about thirty' 
years of age." 

It has been remarked that there is inspiration even in 
the silence of Scripture. I may add that there is in- 
spiration even in its hints. What we know about the 
age of Christ we learn only from a few hints scattered 
here and there. The text is one of these. Here we 
learn that Christ began his public ministry at the age 
of 30. From what is said elsewhere we may infer that 
his ministry lasted about three years, and then ended on 
the cross. On the third day he rose again, and forty 
days thereafter he ascended to heaven. And thus we 
learn that all the notable events of his life took place 
within the brief space of three and thirty years. Christ 
died, rose, and left the earth, while still in his youth. 
And in that life this surely means something. 

Observe, however, that the Bible makes no parade of 
this fact. The biographies of those who have distin- 
guished themselves in youth generally take pains to 
make the fact prominent. Not so the Bible. The text 
is the only passage where direct mention is made of 
Christ's age in connection with his ministry. It nowhere 
tells us how old he was when he died, or when he left 
(34o) 



SERMONS. 



341 






this earth. It leaves us to find that' out for ourselves. 
Yet it lies there, one of the many proofs of its gen- 
uineness. It is just as careful, however, not to leave us 
in entire ignorance touching our Lord's age. The truth 
that Christ was, and is forever young, is full of signifi- 
cance, and sheds important light on many aspects of his 
personality and of his work. Let us make it the theme 
of our present contemplation. 

I remark then, to begin with, that first, Christ's youth 
is an evidence of the innateness and originality of his 
wisdom. At thirty years of age he began to teach the 
mysteries of the kingdom of heaven. From the very 
first all were astonished at his teaching. He taught as 
one having authority, and not as the scribes. Men 
said: — A- great prophet is risen up among us. The 
common people heard him gladly. Members of the 
Sanhedrim said: — Here is a prophet come from God. 
Where did his wisdom come from? From India? or 
Egypt? or Greece? Did he, like Pythagoras, Socrates, 
or Plato, travel abroad from country to country, possess- 
ing himself of all the intellectual wealth of the schools 
of his day, and learning philosophy at the feet of the 
greatest masters? Not so. He never left his own 
land : there is no evidence that he ever heard the name 
of a single school of philosophy or master of thought 
outside of Palestine. Surely then he had learned all 
that was taught in Tiberias, or Jerusalem : he had sat at 
the feet of the Gamaliels of his own nation, and mas- 
tered their doctrines ? Not even that. Until he began 
to teach he was known only as a carpenter, and a car- 
penter's son : and his own neighbors inquired in wonder : 
(t How knoweth this man letters, having never learned?" 
Notwithstanding, the testimony of all who heard him 
was — " Never man spake like this man." A wisdom 
so penetrative, so fruitful, so clear and yet so deep, so 



342 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

gentle and yet so authoritative was never known. What 
remains of it to us is perfect. There is in it nothing 
dim, nothing shallow, nothing false, nothing obsolete. 
The world has never outgrown it. It never will. 
Whence did Christ acquire it ? Not, I repeat, in other 
lands, for he never went out of his own. Not in books 
or in schools, for these were denied him. Not by a 
lengthened experience, for when he began to display 
it he was only thirty years old. At the age of twelve 
even, he astonished the doctors of the temple with his 
questions and answers. 

A parallel is sometimes drawn between Christ and 
Socrates as teachers. But Socrates lived in Athens, 
the center of the intellectual activity of the world in 
his day. He attended its schools. He was arr educated 
man. He associated with its teachers and statesmen. 
He devoted himself to the life and pursuits of a phi- 
losopher. He died in the fulness of years and the ma- 
turity of experience, having reached the allotted span 
of man's life — died, no doubt, like a philosopher. 
Christ died at one-half the age of Socrates — died, as 
has been said, like a God. The wisdom of Socrates 
was human: the wisdom of Christ divine. We hear 
still, to be sure, of the Socratic method in philosophy : 
yet what is that as a power, as an influence in the world, 
compared with the truth as it is in Jesus, with that Di- 
vine Philosophy which the word Christianity represents? 
Whence then, I ask again, did Christ obtain his wis- 
dom ? There is but one answer. He could have ac- 
quired it only from above, only from within. It was 
the inspiration of the Godward within him, the result 
of his perfect communion and oneness with the Father. 
Well might he say : "I do nothing of myself, but as 
my Father hath taught me I speak these things. ... I 
speak to the world those things which I have heard of 






SERMONS. 



343 



him. ... I have given unto them the words which 
thou gavest me." 

2. The youth of Christ is an element of importance 
in determining his moral character. Christ, as we 
know, laid claims to holiness, such as have been pre- 
sented by no other. He claimed absolute immunity 
from sin. " Which of you convinceth me of sin?" So 
he challenged the men of his day, who knew him, who 
watched him, who thirsted alike for his blood and for 
his reputation, and the challenge was never taken up. 
His most intimate associates declared that he knew no 
sin, neither was guile found in his mouth. With hu- 
mility, with gentleness, and yet with incomparable dig- 
nity, he said to those whose righteousness was their 
pride: "Ye are from beneath, I am from above." 
What now was the nature of his holiness ? Was it the 
condition of one who was tired of sin, in whom the pas- 
sions had expended all their strength, whose sensibilities 
were blunted by time, on whose senses the world and 
its pleasures had begun to pall, who was wearied of 
all its vanities and follies ? Far from it. Was it the 
holiness of one who had been engaged for long years 
in the conflict with evil, who had gained the mastery 
over sinful inclinations and habits only after a prolonged 
and fluctuating struggle, in which the victory had not 
always been with his better self? Nay, indeed, not that. 
Was it even the holiness of one from the first predom- 
inately, although not absolutely good, gentle, simple, 
pure, benevolent, who by the diligent cultivation of 
these graces grew more and more good, pure, gentle 
and loving, until not a vestige of their opposites re- 
mained ? Not even that. Mark it. It was not the ho- 
liness of a faded [blase] life, of a decayed animalism — 
if that could be called holiness. It was not the moral 
character of a spiritual veteran, who by dint of a long 



344 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

and hard struggle had fought his way into holiness, and 
who carries in his soul the scars of many a doubtful bat T 
tie. It was not the purity of culture : it was no prod- 
uct of art. What was it then ? It was the holiness 
of one who in childhood had recognized as the para- 
mount obligation of his life the doing of his Father's 
business, who in youth grew up in wisdom and in favor 
with God and men, who was never overcome by the 
most fearful temptations, although they assailed him 
when he was most susceptible to their power. When 
all his sensibilities were liveliest, when his capabilities 
of enjoyment were keenest, when the instincts and im- 
pulses of his manhood were most vigorous, when 
the world made its strongest appeals to the love 
of power, the love of happiness, the love of praise, even 
then it was his meat and his drink to do the will of his 
Father in heaven. Such holiness must have been spon- 
taneous, inborn, Divine : not derived, not created, not 
developed, but inherent in himself, identical with him- 
self, inalienable from himself. 

And this is something which stamps Christ as a 
unique personality in the history of humanity, v/hich 
distinguishes him from all others. This Holy Child 
Jesus, this holy youth, this holy young man, Jesus of 
Nazareth, of whom we cannot think as being ever at 
any stage of his life, other than holy — this is a phe- 
nomenon which the world has never elsewhere seen. 
It is a miracle, one which makes every other miracle 
possible, which justifies Christianity itself as the greatest 
of all miracles. 

3. Again the youth of Christ is of peculiar signifi- 
cance in connection with his mission as one of sorrow. 
Christ came into this world to suffer. "The Son of 
Man came ... to give his life a ransom for many. " 
"He is despised and rejected of men, a Man ofSor- 



SERMONS. 345 

rows and acquainted with grief." Was ever grief like 
His? Gethsemane with its cup of agony! Calvary 
with its cross of woe ! More bitter agony, darker woe, 
earth has never known, never will know. " Father, if 
it be possible, let this cup pass from me." " My God, 
my God! why hast thou forsaken me?" If Christ 
must needs suffer these things, was it not well that he 
should suffer them in his youth when all his powers for 
endurance, whether of body or of mind, were at their 
highest and best. And yet if Christ must live the life 
of the cross, as well as die the death of the cross, is it 
not a relief that His agony was not prolonged through 
three score years and ten ? Do we not feel grateful to 
remember that if he suffered intensely, he did not suffer 
long , that so few years sufficed to enable him to say, 
"It is finished." 

At the same time the thought of his youth gives in- 
creased reality and intensity to his sorrow. He suf- 
fered when his capability for suffering, as well as for 
enduring, or for enjoying, was at its highest. When 
to most men hope is brightest, enjoyment is keenest, 
life is richest in promise— then it was that the darkest 
cloud rested on Jesus and his soul was exceeding sor- 
rowful, even unto death. Can you doubt the reality, 
the depth, the keenness of his anguish ? 

But thanks be to God ! Death is swallowed up in 
victory ! The cloud parts, heaven opens ; and we be- 
hold the Conqueror of Death, radiant with immortal 
youth, ascend the throne forever. And this leads me to 
say in the next place that 

4. Christ's undying youth makes him a fitting rep- 
resentative of Heaven and Immortality. Christ has 
brought life and immortality into light. Is it not fit- 
ting that He who is come to reveal them, to be the 
embodiment of heaven and eternity's highest excellen- 



34*5 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

cies and glories, should be thought of as forever young? 
Without Christ, what should we know of the hereafter ? 
Take Christ away and what remains? The witchery 
of the soft blue sky, you say, remains, the stars shed 
their gentle radiance, the ocean murmurs its deep-toned 
harmonies, and the mountains lay their mighty spell on 
the soul, the grand processions of nature move on, 
evolving phase after phase of beauty and sublimity — 
but wherefore ? What is the end of all ? Alas ! all 
these processes of life, glory, and joy, hasten into an 
abyss of darkness. Over all death reigns. Ah ! 

" That one word death comes over my sick brain, 
Wrapping my vision in a sudden swoon, 
Blotting the gorgeous pomp of sun and shade." 

Its dark shadow bounds our vision. Beyond it we 
can not see. It is the last word of life. " Man dieth, 
and wasteth away ; yea, man giveth up the ghost, and 
where is he? Where is he? Is he at all? Who 
knows? Where Christ is unknown what is the future 
but a vast unknown, a guess, a Perhaps? What is 
death but a leap in the dark ? But lo ! Christ comes, 
and all is light. He comes as the very spirit and au- 
thor of light. He comes that men might have life and 
might have it more abundantly. He comes from 
heaven into our earth, and brings heaven with him. 
He is the representative of the glory that is beyond, 
the glory that is to be revealed. He stands before us 
in immortal youth, in the beauty of the life to come. 
To behold him is to gaze on immortality. To have 
him is to have eternal life. To be with him is to be in 
heaven. Christ has come to show the world that there 
is no old age in heaven, that eternity is everlasting 
youth. 

5. The youth of Christ again gives peculiar meaning 
to the title — "Son of God" — so often given in Scrip- 



SERMONS. 347 

ture. When we think of God in his Infinite Life, 
we naturally think of him as existing from eternity. 
He "only hath immortality" as an essential underived 
attribute of his Being, and yet man too hath an immor- 
tality which God has given him. But of God alone 
can it be said that He is without beginning, as well as 
without end. "Before the mountains were brought 
forth, or even Thou hadst formed the earth and the 
world, even from everlasting to everlasting, Thou art 
God." There never was a time, there never was an 
eternity where God was not. While the earth was 
forming during those long seons, which were like waves 
on the ocean of eternity, each wave itself an ocean, 
itself an eternity almost — God was. Before all material 
existence, while only heaven and its spiritual hosts lay 
in the shadow of the Divine Glory — God was. Before 
all created existence, before there was a creature's eye 
to see, or ear to hear, or mind to think — God was ! 
alone ! reigning in the boundless empire of his own 
infinity, self-subsistent, self-sufficient, all in all ! What, 
then, shall we call him ? Let us name him with Daniel, 
"Ancient of Days." With Moses and Isaiah let us 
call him Eternal God ! But shall we therefore think 
that his eye ever v/axes dim, that his ear ever grows 
heavy, that his arm becomes faint, that age clouds his 
intelligence, enfeebles his activities, diminishes his joy, 
or chills his heart? Nay, verily, the Ancient of Days 
is also the Youthful of Days forever. For behold him 
who calls himself the "only begotten Son of God," 
whom the Father calls "My beloved Son." Do you 
see aught of decay, of decrepitude, of age in him ? 
Not the faintest shadow. His are the fulness, the 
strength, the glory of perpetual youth. Such, there- 
fore, as he is, such is God. For what do we mean 
when we call Christ the Son of God? Do we mean 



348 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

that he is less than the Father, that he is younger, that 
his eternity is not the equal of the Father's ? Nothing 
of the kind, and they who think so have failed to grasp 
one of the most beautiful truths in Christ's revelation 
of the Father. But the meaning is that Christ is the 
perfect representative of the Father, that he is the 
exact embodiment of his attributes, the express image 
of his person, the reproduction of his infinite perfec- 
tions, the full heir of all his glories, who can say to 
his Father : "All things are mine!" In his Sonship 
he embodies accordingly the life of God, let me say, 
the youth of God. In Christ we see that God is for- 
ever young, that the Intelligence of God is forever 
young, that the Power of God is forever young, that 
the heart of God is forever young, that the Eternity of 
God is eternal youth. Yes — in the face of Jesus 
Christ the awful mysterious reality of God's eternity 
smiles upon us with the sweet attractive loveliness of 
youth, winning our unshrinking confidence, our unfal- 
tering trust. Once more : 

5. The youth of Christ is a fact of inestimable precious- 
ness in assisting our conception of Christ's brotherhood. 
How easy it becomes for us to think of Christ as our 
brother, as we remember his youth when he ascended 
to the right hand of God. "I go to your Father, and 
to my Father," said he to his disciples, just before 
leaving them. And so he parted from them, as a 
brother from his brethren. But such as Christ was when 
he ascended to heaven, such he is to-day — our brother ! 

He is there as the first-born of the family of God, as 
the bond which unites all the members of that family in 
one heavenly brotherhood, which also unites that broth- 
erhood to the Father of all. As on earth he was the 
representative of the Fatherhood of God, so in heaven 
he represents the brotherhood of man. From Eternity 



SERMONS. 



349 



the Son of God — through Eternity, the Son of Man — 
made in all things like unto his brethren, who is not 
ashamed to call them brethren. He is the Perfect Man 
— humanity in its highest state of beauty, of glory, and 
of strength. He is the unchangeable type of the race, 
to which each one of his brethren will be exalted. 
"For whom God did foreknow he also did predestinate 
to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might 
be the first-born among many brethren." What then do 
we learn in regard to the Future of Humanity, as we 
contemplate this one Elder Brother ? We learn that as 
the Eternal Life of the Godhead is Youth, so also is 
the Eternal life of perfected humanity Youth. "Now 
are we the Sons of God, and it doeth not yet appear 
what we shall be, but we know that when he shall ap- 
pear, we shall be like him." 

Like him in eternal youth : like him in the bloom, 
the vigor, the freshness, and joyousness of immortality. 
No more weariness of body or of mind, no more dim- 
ness of vision, no more feebleness of sense, physical or 
spiritual : no more vacancy of thought, no more exhaus- 
tion of feeling, no growing infirmity of intellect, or de- 
bility of will : no deepening of the shadows as the night 
approaches : no passing away of the summer of the 
heart : no withering of life's glories as the winter draws 
nigh : no alienation, or unbelief, no sin or despair to 
blight with hopeless age. 

Perennial youth is the prerogative of every one of 
Christ's brethren — a youth ever renewing itself by par- 
taking of His Fulness, who is the Fountain of the Life 
Immortal. 



XVII. 

BEARING EACH OTHER'S BURDENS. 

Galatians 6:2. " Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.'' 

You are all familiar with the picture set before us by 
the opening lines of Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, "I 
dreamed, and behold I saw a man clothed with rags, 
standing in a certain place, with his face from his own 
house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his 
back." That burden was indeed a special burden. 
You remember how the bearer was delivered from that 
burden. "I saw in my dream, that just as Christian 
came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off his 
shoulders, and fell from off his back, and so continued 
to do till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where 
it fell in, and I saw it no more." The burden of which 
Bunyan dreamed is doubtless the most serious bur- 
den of life, the burden of sin and guilt. It is not, 
however, the only burden which is laid upon us all 
along our earthly journey. They are the inseparable 
accompaniments of our sinful mortality, and of our life 
discipline. We are freed from them only by death. 
These are the burdens of which the text speaks. These 
burdens vary much. Each one's burden is not the 
same with that of his neighbor. The burden of one 
is lighter than that of another. There are those who 
(35o) 






SERMONS. 



D} 1 






are almost or quite unconscious of their burdens, and 
their case is the saddest of all. These words imply- 
that all have one burden. From them we may infer 
the Bible theory of life. What is life ? Is life worth 
living ? These are the questions. There are those 
who picture it as a gay holiday, made up of mirth and 
music and sunshine ; not a cloud overhead, not a thorn 
in the way, no burden to bear, no weary, footsore 
march, nothing but the present, seizing the day, bask- 
ing in the sunshine, dreaming. 

Others paint it in dark and dismal lines, as a day of 
clouds, and rain, and chilling storms; as a valley of 
shadows, a desert of dead hopes, a Golgotha of perished 
and perishing travelers, who have fallen by the way, 
crushed by their loads. 

The Bible picture of life is neither this nor that. It 
is neither a gala day, nor a day of lamentation ; neither 
idle play, nor hopeless agony, neither the laughter of 
fools, nor the wail of the despairing. It is indeed a 
pilgrimage, a sad and weary one to many, yet not with- 
out its joys ; a long pilgrimage it may be, yet not 
without its rests, through the wilderness, yet by many 
an Elim of fountains and palms ; a burden-laden pil- 
grimage, and yet the toil of which may be lessened 
and its pleasures enlarged, if we heed the voice of wis- 
dom, and seek to " bear one another's burdens, and so 
fulfill the law of Christ " : 

" Not enjoyment and not sorrow 
Is our destined end or way, 
But to act that each to-morrow, 
Find us further than to-day." 

Find us further, find our brother also further than 
to-day, helped by us to bear his load, and to take 
some steps forward which without our help he could 
not have taken. 



35 2 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

What each one's burden is he best knows himself. 
"The heart knoweth his own bitterness." "Every 
man shall bear his own burdens." There are physical 
burdens which many have to hear. Their life is loaded, 
handicapped down with infirmity or disease. There is a 
limitation of sense, or of function, which narrows for 
them the channels of enjoyment or of culture. A con- 
stant sense of pain adds a drop of bitterness to every 
cup. Brain, nerve, limb, heart, lung, cries out its dis- 
cord. A shadow, like that of death, is not far off. 

There are mental burdens, burdens of mental infir- 
mity or disease, the source of which is rather in the 
body, and which becloud the life with apprehension 
and pain, burdens also which are more purely intellect- 
ual, doubts, discouragement, perplexity, from dealing 
with the dark problems of being. There are spiritual 
burdens which come upon us through our spiritual 
shortcomings, through the infirmity of will, the preva- 
lence of passion, the power of temptation, through 
conflict with the world without or with self within. 
There are burdens which form part of our heritage. 
We inherit them from those who have gone before, by 
the laws of hereditary transmission, social liability, re- 
pressive responsibility. We are born into the world, 
many of us with fetters on our limbs, with weights 
around our necks. 

There are burdens which are rolled on us by Prov- 
idential dispensations — business perplexities, financial 
embarrassments, failures, family troubles, national ca- 
lamities, losses, death. There are burdens which others 
lay on us by their follies, unkindness or unfaithfulness, 
suspicion, calumny, ill-will, injurious dealing. With 
many of us the great question is how to get rid of our 
own burdens, or if not how to get rid of them alto- 
gether, at least how to lighten them, how to carry 



SERMONS. 353 

them with the most ease and comfort to ourselves. I 
am far from saying that we are not to consider this 
question. The right disposition of our own burdens is 
one of the most important problems in life. It is a 
question of infinite practical moment to each one of 
us — how shall I deal most wisely with that which God 
lays on me to bear as part of life's discipline? How 
shall I secure that my burdens shall not hinder me, 
crush me, wear me out? How shall I avoid getting 
bitter or rebellious? How shall I bear my load, when 
bear I must, so as to learn patience, to grow more 
humble, to gain strength, to build up my manhood? 
I say this is a legitimate question to ask. 

But that is certainly a low view of life which stops 
with our own burdens. The selfish motto — "every 
man for himself," is abhorrent to every generous in- 
stinct. It is earthly, sensual, devilish. The dictates 
even of natural humanity protest against it. The man 
who hardens his heart against the appeal of suffering 
and want, who holds back his hand from lightening 
the load under which his brother is staggering, is a 
reprobate anywhere, even heathendom repudiates him, 
much more does Christianity condemn him. For as 
the text says, to bear one another's burdens is to fulfill 
the law of Christ. Christ's law is ■ Love. All His 
teachings inculcate the obligation of mutual service. 
Nay, more, He is our example. " Himself took our 
infirmities and bare our sicknesses." Bear ye one 
another's burdens, and so "fulfill the lav/ of Christ." 
What then does this precept imply? 

I. It implies that first of all we should acquaint our- 
selves with one another's burdens. It is a common 
proverb that one-half* the world does not know how 
the other half lives. To some extent this is unavoid- 
able. It is not to be expected that every one should 



354 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

know all about every body else. This is not practic- 
able, neither would it be desirable. It is not for us to 
pry into the closets which hold our neighbor's skele- 
tons. There are secrets too sacred to be laid open to 
the public gaze. There are loads which no human 
hand can lighten, much less remove. 

If we only did all the duty that comes to hand each 
day in the way of helping others, how much more ra- 
diant with active sympathy our lives would become! 
We certainly do not make the most of the opportuni- 
ties which our knowledge brings to us. But after all, 
can it be denied that there is much criminal ignorance 
and insensibility on our part touching the sufferings 
and want of others? We do not do all that we know 
ought to be done, but do we know all that we ought to 
know ? Do we not willfully, or at best thoughtlessly, 
shut our eyes to the facts — the sad, tragic facts which 
are all about us? Within eye-range and ear-range of 
our homes and of our daily walks, sin and misery are 
busy, their victims are many, the need of help is ur- 
gent, and we dream, or try to dream, that all is well, 
and do nothing. Sometimes a case comes to light, the 
hidden evil reaches a climax ; the veil is rent, and we 
get a glimpse of the abyss of corruption and wretched- 
ness festering beneath, and we are shocked, our con- 
science smites us, and we blame ourselves that we had 
not known of the evil in time, and done what we could 
to prevent it. But too late! 

This is not the law of Christ. He came "to seek 
and to save." The spirit of Christ seeks when and 
whom it may help. In true Christlike sympathy there 
is a spirit of discovery, a holy enterprise of love, 
which goes forth to find its object, which is not satisfied 
while there is one soul anywhere who needs help, one 
want anywhere which can be relieved. 



SERMONS. 355 

2. It is not enough, however, to become simply ac- 
quainted with one anothers burdens, we should interest 
ourselves in them. This sentiment was not unknown 
even to the heathen heart. You are all familiar with 
the utterance of the Roman poet, "I am a man, and 
nothing pertaining to man is without interest for me." 
You remember how that sentiment filled a Roman the- 
atre with acclamations. 

Shall it be said of Christian communities, that they 
are insensible to the burdens which crush the hearts and 
lives of those about them ? But you will say it is not 
true that they are thus insensible. It cannot be so! 
But are you so sure of that? Do you sufficiently take 
into account the influence, e. g. of the law of familiar- 
ity ? We become accustomed even to moral deformity. 

" Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, 
As to be hated needs but to be seen, 
But seen too oft, familiar with her face, 
We first endure,, then pity, then embrace." 

We may not go quite so far as that, but the tendency is 

that way. 

In like manner we become accustomed to suffering, 
our sensibilities are dulled by use. Misery comes to be 
a matter of course. We pass by a degraded hovel, the 
abode of filth and wretchedness, the lurking place of 
vice and brutality, one of hell's caricatures of that 
heaven on earth, home. But we go by, and beyond a 
momentary sense of disgust, it may be, what do we feel ? 

There goes a drunkard, that living satire on God's 
image in man, alas ! the sight is so common it scarcely 
affects us at all. With besotted face and maudlin words, 
he staggers on his way, he reels into the gutter, and we 
make a jest of it perhaps and pass on, and think no more 
of it. See the faces which come forth out of the 
crowded tenements of our cities, wan, poverty-stricken, 
vice-bleared, epitomes of a life of woe, advertisements 



356 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

of days and nights of beastly degradation, photographs 
of all evil lusts and passions, we look at them, they 
look at us — and what do they say to us? how many of 
them awaken even a passing emotion of interest, of 
genuine thoughtful interest in our hearts? 

They are to us little more than weeds by the way- 
side, or blasted trees in the landscape. Now I do not 
say that this is altogether blameworthy. We are all 
conscious of it, even the best, most humane ; and to a 
large extent it is unavoidable, the natural result of the 
law of familiarity. 

But it does show the danger to which we are all ex- 
posed — a danger too, I venture to say, into which we all 
fall more or less, of becoming culpably indifferent to 
the burdens with which our brothers and sisters are 
struggling, and which claim our attention and help 
wherever we go. We must be on our guard against this 
hardening process. We must fight this tendency to 
apathy and self-indulgence, this fatalistic selfish ac- 
quiescence in the crushing out of others, provided only 
that our own burdens are easily borne. We must keep 
our hearts tender and soft. 

Let us never forget that we are members one of an- 
other; that if one member suffer all the members suffer 
with it. — He who liveth in pleasures, who liveth in and 
for himself, is dead while he liveth, that, after all, sel- 
fishness is suicide, and he who is dead to the interests 
of others, sacrifices, murders in the end his own. " Who- 
soever will save his life shall lose it." 

3. It is not enough, however, to be interested simply 
in the burdens of others. 

The text enjoins sympathy which is more than a 
feeling of interest towards those who need our help. 
Sympathy, as the word denotes, is fellow-feeling, feeling 
with others, not simply toward, with regard to them, and 



SERMONS. 357 

taking their burdens on ourselves so that we shall feel 
them to some extent, as those do who bear them. 
"Remember those that are in bonds, as bound with 
them, and them who suffer adversity as being yourselves 
also in the body." Put yourself in his place, as an old 
proverb has it, or in the more precise language of in- 
spiration, "Put your own shoulder under your brother's 
yoke." Realize for yourself the conditions, the trials, 
the weakness, the want, the weariness, the embarrass- 
ment, the sorrow of your brother. 

This is one of the sacred uses of imagination. This 
faculty is not given us for aesthetic or artistic uses 
merely. To fill the mind's gallery with pictures of 
beauty and sublimity, is not its only, perhaps not its 
highest function in this state of trial and suffering. It 
has also an ethical vocation. It is one of the factors of 
life's moral discipline. It may be, and it should be 
the agent of conscience, the hand-maid of love. It 
should be trained to picture, to realize for us the moral 
conditions and necessities of others, so that we may 
wisely and efficiently aid them. 

You can not give a man moral help or spiritual re- 
lief, unless you understand and feel his case, appreciate 
the peculiarities of his situation, and know through fel- 
lowship just what his trouble is, where the burden 
presses most heavily. You may not be able to do this 
fully, to enter completely into the experience of him 
you would relieve, but there must be something of it. 
One who has known nothing whatever of debt, can 
render but little service to the debtor. He whose own 
heart has never been heavy with sorrow, can do but 
little toward lightening the heart of another. The heart 
that feels with another, must prompt and guide the 
hand which brings help to another. 

It was the recognition of this principle which led 



358 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

John Howard to visit the prisons of Europe, and to 
take up his abode in lazarettos and pest-ships, that he 
might see with his own eyes, and realize, to some ex- 
tent in his own experience, the suffering of those 
whom he would befriend. So Christ, our Great High 
Priest, identified himself with our nature, and with our 
lot, entered into all our mortal experiences, came down 
into the lowest walks of weakness, loneliness and sor- 
row, that then, with the power of Divine sympathy, He 
might help and save his brethren. And thus he has 
left us an example that we should follow in his steps. 
As Christ is introduced as saying in the vision of Sir 
Launfal : 

" The Holy Supper is kept indeed 

In whatsoever we share with a brother's need, 
Not that which we give, but that which we share, 
For the gift without the giver is bare, 
Who bestows himself with his alms feeds three, 
Himself, his hungering neighbor and me." 

4. But even this is not enough. We must go one 
step further yet. To feel the burden of another, is 
not to bear that burden. There are those who find it 
easy to indulge in sympathy, who enjoy it as a senti- 
mental luxury, but who are never led by it to do any- 
thing for others. What does it profit the poor seam- 
stress in the alley, who is putting her heart's blood into 
her stitches, that the fine madame around the corner 
rocks herself while reading the song of the shirt, and 
revels in the sweet pathos of tears for the unfortunate ? 
A thin skin is easily affected, and there is a sympathy 
which has no more merit in its suffering, and which 
is only skin-deep. 

How, then, are we to bear one another's burdens ? 
Can you take the burden of another directly on your 
own shoulders ? In some instances evidently you can. 
If a friend is staggering under a heavy load of debt, 



SERMONS. 359 

you can if it should seem best to do so — assume the 
debt and pay it for him. But ought you to do this, 
supposing it to be in your power? That would depend 
on circumstances. It might be a noble thing to do, 
provided the aggregate good resulting from it should 
sufficiently outweigh any incidental damage or grief 
attending it. The cases are manifestly few, however, 
where there can be an absolute transfer of one man's 
load to another's shoulders. In most cases the load is 
so much a part of the man himself, of his personality 
and life, that it can not be shifted. It is of such a load 
that Paul says just below: " Every man should bear 
his own burden." How, then, can we bear these bur- 
dens? Or what is it to bear one another's burdens 
when we can not make them absolutely our own? I 
answer — it is to undergo that amount of suffering, of 
sacrifice and of toil, with and for another, which may 
be necessary to relieve him of his burden, so far as 
that may be practicable, or if not to relieve him alto- 
gether, at least to enable him to bear it. This is the 
law of Christ of which Paul speaks, the law of love, in 
other words, the great Christian law of sacrifice, the 
highest law of the moral universe, the law of which 
the life of Christ is the Divinest illustration. This law 
requires not that a man should take on himself the in- 
dividual sufferings of another, but that he should take 
on himself that kind, and that degree of suffering, of 
toil, of sacrifice, which is necessary to secure his neigh- 
bor's good. 

The rich man is not required to strip himself of his 
wealth, to live in a hovel, to clothe himself with rags, 
to shiver and to famish in want, but he is required to 
deny himself somewhere, to live for something else 
than personal ease and gratification, to make sacrifices 
at the call of charity and duty, to undergo whatever 



360 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

toil and anxiety the administration of his property may 
lay on him in the spirit of true stewardship, with a view 
not to serve himself, but to help those who cannot help 
themselves. 

The man of culture is required by this law to hold 
his attainments and powers at the service of others, to 
sacrifice even some of the fruits, rewards, and enjoy- 
ments of culture in himself so as to redeem others from 
ignorance, grossness and superstition. Those to whom 
God has communicated of the riches of his grace are to 
bear these riches to the perishing, and in doing this are 
to be prepared to encounter loss, obloquy, privation, 
to crucify their own feelings, to sacrifice their prospects, 
to lose, if need be, their lives. So the Son of God gave 
up the throne, and took up the cross, laid aside his 
glory, and clothed himself with shame, that he might 
take away our burdens, and give the weary and heavy 
laden rest. 

Thus did he fulfil the Law of Love. The truest and 
wisest sympathy, I think, is that which will teach or help 
others to bear their own burdens. Is the burden one 
which may be entirely removed? Then the wisest 
sympathy is that which will teach the bearer to rid 
himself of it. Here is a pauper, whose soul is pauper- 
ized even more than his pocket. What is the best thing 
you can do for him ? Teach him to respect himself, to 
aspire to a life of self-reliance and industry, to make a 
man of himself. This may cost you something, more 
labor, more anxiety, more weariness of heart than if 
you should buy him a cottage, and set him up in it ; 
but can you doubt which would be the better way of 
bearing his burden? 

That ignorant man whose mental barrenness makes 
him more helpless than the brute creation, for he has 
not the instinct of the brute to educate himself— what is 



SERMONS. 36I 

the best thing you can do for him? Help him out 
of his imbecility and stupefaction into capacity and 
usefulness. Help the vicious to throw away the 
shackles which fetter them, to overcome the habits 
which enslave them, the appetites which degrade them, 
and to practice self-restraint, purity, and manly en- 
deavor. Thus do you not only bear the burdens of 
others, but bear them away, aye, and roll them into the 
sepulchre. 

If however, the burden may not be laid down until 
death comes with rest to the weary, then that is the 
wisest sympathy which teaches the suffering in humil- 
ity, resignation, and silence, or even with trustfulness 
and joy, to carry the burden until the Father's hand 
which laid it shall take it away. For there are burdens 
which can be laid down only with the life. They who 
bear them know what they are. You or I cannot bear 
them for another, nor take them away — and yet we 
may do much to lighten them, if our own lives but 
shine forth with sympathy, with patience, with cheer- 
fulness, with courage, with faith in Christ. The very 
presence of Christ is rest to the weary : and what is true 
of Christ is true of Christ's spirit, wherever, in whom- 
soever found. 

In our selfish moods we are tempted, it may be, to 
complain of this arrangement, which makes us our 
brethren's burden-bearers. "Where is thy brother?" 
said God to Cain. "Am I my brother's keeper?" was 
the reply. Ah ! that old question, how it keeps jump- 
ing to our lips ! Have I not my own burden to carry ? 
and is not that enough? Why should I worry myself 
about another's? In our better moods, indeed, we are 
ashamed of this spirit, ashamed that we have to fight so 
against it. But is not this Divine arrangement a beau- 
tiful and a loving one ? What if the world were consti- 



362 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

tuted on that Cain theory, that selfish principle, every 
man his own keeper? What an unlovely place it would 
be ! Misery is bad enough, but selfishness is misery in 
hell. 

On the other hand, this law of reciprocal sympathetic 
help, sheds the fragrance of the rose, even over the 
thorns of the wilderness. Brighter than the sunbeam is 
the answering look of gratitude from relieved distress. 
Sweeter than the droppings of the honey-comb are the 
yearnings and tears of pity. More thrilling than the 
song of triumph, is the conscious joy of rescuing the 
perishing. 

The poor we have always with us, and so the weak, 
the suffering, the struggling, the heavy laden, we have 
always with us. The more we feel for them and with 
them, the more lovingly and absolutely we surrender 
ourselves to their service — the stronger shall we be, the 
gentler, the purer, the more helpful, more godlike 
shall we grow. 

And do you not know this, moreover, and I close 
with this thought : To bear each other's burdens is the 
best way to bear your own? Sometimes a man gets 
rid of his own burden altogether, as soon as he ad- 
dresses himself to the relief of others. This is es- 
pecially true of those burdens which grow out of a 
selfish life, or at least out of a life too much occupied 
with self. And how many of our burdens are of this 
class? We dwell in the shadow of our own thoughts 
and feelings ; we think of ourselves ; we plan for our- 
selves ; we judge of everything by its relations to our- 
selves, and we thus heap up for ourselves doubts, anx- 
ieties, disappointments, failure?, which well nigh crush 
us. And the more we live in and for ourselves, the 
more we mope, and pine, and fret, and fume, because 
of these grievances, the heavier do they become, and 



SERMONS. 363 

the more do they chafe and weary us. But let us forget 
self, let us go to the help of others, and lift at their 
burdens, and lo ! we lose our own ; our doubtings, and 
fearings, and strivings vanish; we are free men. And 
whatever may be the burden, the law is the same. Do 
your part in bearing your brethren's burdens, and your 
own will be, if not wholly removed, at least made much 
lighter. There is the reaction of mutual sympathy; 
there is the inspiration of love; there is the joy of 
helping others; there is the assurance of the Divine 
favor ; there is the sense of liberty, elevation and power, 
which comes from conscious sympathy with God, and 
conscious nearness to Him. How much better this 
than to be staggering and stumbling under your own 
load, thinking only of your own miserable self! Ah ! 
my hearers, there is no service so poor as the service 
of self. There is no such poor paymaster. There is 
no life so fruitless, so joyless, and, in the end, so help- 
less, as the life which has never brought help to an- 
other, which has never been touched by the spirit of 
Christ, which has never throbbed with his love for 
God and man. He who cares only for the world, who 
lives only in the present, only for pleasure, wealth or 
power, what is there to hold him up when he feels 
all giving away under his feet ? When the load is too 
heavy, what is there left for him but to sink under it 
in the dark depths of despair, it may be to seek refuge 
in the dark depths of eternity ? I know in another city 
a Missionary, aged, poor, crippled and blind. For 
more than forty years he has loved and lived for God's 
poor in that city, hobbling about on his crutches day 
by day, feeling his way along through the reeking al- 
leys and rickety tenements, to comfort, help and save 
the needy, the sick, the degraded, the dying. The 
thousands of those for whom he thus labors know, and 



364 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

love, and bless him. There is not a happier man under 
God's sky to-day than he, for every day he is doing 
Christ's work, and every day he finds his reward in 
doing it. He does not know oftentimes where to- 
morrow's loaf is to come from, and yet all the gold of 
California could not tempt him from the work he loves. 
Heavy as are his own personal burdens, he knows 
nothing of them ; the only burdens he knows are those 
of others, which in the fulfillment of the law of love 
he is striving to bear for them. 

I think I would rather be that poor, old, sightless 
cripple, than to be the money-king of the market, 
with all the power which gold can bring, but without 
the love which the lust of gold devours, and without 
the hope which the gold of the universe can not buy. 

Oh, for grace to be more like Him who pleased not 
himself, who took on him the form of a servant, who 
bare our burdens in his own body, who became poor 
that we, through his poverty, might be made rich. 



PREACHING CHRIST.* 

My desire to-night in opening this new Seminary 
year, is to speak a word which may tell to some good 
purpose on the work of the year, and through the 
work of the year, on the work of your life. You are 
here to learn to preach, to prepare yourselves for the 
business of preaching. What is it to preach ? What 
are you to preach ? These are two questions of supreme 
interest to each one of you. The second question is 
that which I would consider with you to-night, and the 
answer to it will carry with it the answer to the for- 
mer question. 

At the same time a brief preliminary examination of 
the description which the New Testament gives of the 
act of preaching, will prepare the way for an answer to 
the question, what are we to preach ? 

I. Preaching is, let me say to begin with, a specific 
act in the generic category of teaching. This act of 
teaching is, perhaps, the highest practical function of 
the human intellect. The antecedent process of learn- 
ing that which is to be taught, is doubtless of extreme 
importance, involving some of the loftiest speculative 
activities of the mind. But the process of teaching is 
of paramount practical importance. In it is attained 

* Although not technically a sermon, this address (delivered at the opening of 
the Seminary year, Sept. 9, 1886,) is so full cf the highest and noblest kind of preach- 
ing, that it was thought best to add it to this volume. As the mature expression cf 
the author's idea of preaching, moreover, its title was chosen as the title of the vol- 
ume. The sermons are examples of how to " preach Christ." 

(365) 



366 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

the highest manifestation of mental power. The spirit- 
ual giants of the race have been its teachers. And 
this is the fundamental conception of preaching : teach- 
ing. The great commission is, ' ' Go ye and teach all 
nations." Bring all into Christ's school, that they may 
learn Christ, and the things of Christ. 

Learning Christ — that is practical Christianity. As 
the Apostle writes to the Ephesians, "Ye have not so 
learned Christ." 

II. Another important New Testament term (xarayysX- 
htv) describes preaching, as announcing, proclaiming, pub- 
lishing abroad. " Christ whom we preach, (proclaim) 
admonishing every man, and teaching every man in all 
wisdom — that we may present every man perfect in 
Christ." This term suggests a solemn, authoritative an- 
nunciation of something which is of general moment, 
of something which requires to be publicly promul- 
gated. It is a term which specially befits the Gospel 
Proclamation, as a Divine Revelation, as a Divine Mes- 
sage, to be carried everywhere. 

III. Another term in frequent use {luayyeXi^eadat) 
describes preaching as specifically the proclamation of 
Glad Tidings. The Gospel is good news to men. The 
preacher is a messenger of joy that brings the message 
of life to the dying, and speaks the word of hope to 
the ear of despair. " How beautiful upon the mountains 
are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that 
publisheth peace, that bringeth good tidings of good, 
that publisheth salvation, that saith unto Zion, thy God 
reigneth." 

IV. Still another term, perhaps, the most common 
of all {xrjpvoaetv) describes the preacher as a herald. 
So in one version of the great commission: "Go ye 
into all the world and preach (herald) the Gospel to 
the whole creation." " Preach (herald) the Word: be 




SERMONS. 367 

instant in season, out of season." This term describes 
preaching still more definitely than the preceding, as 
a mediating agency, a representative function. The 
preacher is a representative man. He is the ambassa- 
dor of a Higher Power. He stands for God, and 
speaks in the name of God. "We are ambassadors, 
therefore, on behalf of Christ, as though God were 
entreating by us, we beseech you on behalf of Christ, 
be ye reconciled to God." This description emphasizes 
the peculiar personal relations of the preacher. He 
represents not a system, not an institution, but a being 
— a personality ; not himself, but another. He is to 
speak, not his own words, but the words which are 
given for the purpose. He is to declare, not his own 
notions, not his own thoughts, but the thoughts, feel- 
ings, desires, purposes, of Him who hath sent him 
forth. There is still another class of terms of consid- 
erable extent and variety, which describes the work of 
preaching as a work of serving, ministering, helping. 
It is the preacher's special function to serve others, to 
advance their interests. He is by way of pre-eminence 
the servant, the minister. The law of self-subordi- 
nation, is the distinctive characteristic law of his calling. 
It is his peculiar privilege to encourage, warn, nurture, 
comfort, to apply the gospel to the ever-recurring, 
ever-varying needs of humanity, both in its social and 
individual life. "Every Scripture is inspired of God, 
and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, 
for instruction which is in righteousness, that the man of 
God may be complete, furnished completely unto every 
good work." 

So much for the act of preaching. Let us turn now 
to the contents of the act. What are we to preach ? 
In one word, we are to preach Christ, "Every day in 



368 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

the temple and at home they [the Apostles] ceased not 
to teach and to preach Jesus, as the Christ." 

"I determined not to know anything among you, 
save Jesus Christ and Him crucified." 

"We preach Christ crucified, unto Jews a stumbling 
block, and unto Greeks foolishness, but unto them that 
are called— both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of 
God, and the wisdom of God." 

"We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus as Lord." 

This then is preaching according to the Apostolic model 
— to preach Christ, or, taking the above terms, accord- 
ing to the definition given of each : 

I. To preach Christ is to teach Christ. Christ is the 
wisdom of God, and we are to instruct the world in that 
wisdom. Paul speaks of "The dispensation of God, 
which was given to him, to fulfill [fill to the full] the 
Word of God, even the mystery which has been hid 

from all ages, and generations which is Christ 

in you, the hope of glory." "I strive that they may 
know the mystery of God, even Christ in whom are all 
the treasures of wisdom and knowledge hidden." It is 
the preacher's mission to unfold the mystery, to unveil 
the treasures of Divine Wisdom, which are stored 
within it, to initiate men into this blessed secret of God, 
which to know is life eternal. 

II. To preach Christ is still further to announce Christ, 
to spread abroad His glory, to proclaim Him as King, 
as Savior, as Judge — the One for whom the isles have 
waited, for whom the centuries have prayed. 

III. And so, to preach Christ is to proclaim Him, as 
the Joy of the world, God's Evangel of peace on earth — 
and glory in the highest. - 

IV. To preach Christ is to herald Him — to voice His 
invitation, to mediate His thought, to interpret His life 



SERMONS. 369 

and work to the world, to go before Him, to prepare 
His coming. 

V. And finally, to preach Christ is to apply Christ as 
the panacea of the world's maladies, as the Bread of 
Life for its hunger, as the Water of Life for its thirst, 
as Heaven's answer to earth's questioning, as God's so- 
lution of life's enigmas. "In Him dwelleth all the ful- 
ness of the Godhead bodily, and in Him ye are made 
full." 

Having thus glanced briefly at the act of preaching 
in its relations to the theme, let us direct our attention 
more particularly to the theme itself. 

What is it to preach Christ f 

(1.) It is not of necessity to be all the time using the 
name of Christ in our preaching. "Not every one that 
saith unto me Lord, Lord, shall enter into the Kingdom 
of Heaven." 

Not every one that saith of Christ, Lord, Lord, shall 
preach the Gospel of His Kingdom. There may be a 
dry formal mechanical use of Christ's name, which is 
utterly devoid of the spirit and life of Christ Himself. 
It has often been remarked that the name of God is not 
once found in the book of Esther — although the book 
of Esther is from beginning to end, full of God. So it 
is conceivable — I do not say it is probable — or that un- 
less in very exceptional circumstances, it is at all desir- 
able — that a sermon may scarcely once mention Christ, 
and yet be full of Christ, all the way through. 

(2.) To preach Christ is not of necessity to be all the 
time making Christ the specific theme of the preach- 
ing. The sphere of which Christ is the center is a 
boundless universe : He irradiates with His own light, 
every point in that sphere. There are in the Word of 
God, themes without number, which in their Biblical 
connections, receive a Divine consecration. Indeed 



370 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

there is no legitimate object of human thought or in- 
terest, which, when contemplated in the solar light of 
this Divine Centre, is not transfigured with a new glory. 

Historic events and epochs, the rise and fall of 
Babylon or Rome, the mission of Cyrus, of Charle- 
magne, of Cromwell, the thought of Plato, the song of 
Virgil, the vision of Dante, each and all will to the 
Christian thinker, reflect Christ — as to the Christian 
eye of Paul in Athens, the inscription of an altar, and 
a line of Aratus shone with the truth which Christ had 
taught him. . On the other hand, one may take Christ 
for the formal theme of his sermon, and yet fail of 
preaching Christ. To be the pulse of the preacher's 
thought, Christ must be the pulse of the preacher's life, 
He must be more than the figure-head of the sermon. 
The sermon must flow out of the head of Christ, as the 
stream came forth out of the rock, when smitten by the 
rod of Moses. Thus let men today drink of that spir- 
itual rock, which follows them — that rock which is 
Christ. 

(3) And so I remark, once again, there is a differ-, 
ence between preaching about Christ, and preaching 
Christ. A man may preach a great deal about Christ, 
without preaching much of Christ himself. What is 
said about Christ, is largely the shell. It is— to borrow 
the nomenclature of philosophy — the phenomena in 
Christ, as distinguished from the noumena ; the cir- 
cumstantial in Christ, as distinguished from the essen- 
tial ; the exterior as contrasted with the interior. It is 
what they have thought and said about Christ, rather 
than what the preacher himself has found in him. 
It is Christ as a creed, rather than Christ as a reality ; 
the halo, not the living sun. The business to which 
the preacher is summoned is — let us never forget — to 
preach Christ Himself. 



SERMONS. 371 

But to look at the subject a little more in the con- 
crete, let us particularize. Christ as the subject of 
preaching, may be regarded : I. As a Personality ; II. 
As the Truth ; III. As the Life. 

I. Let us consider the significance which attaches to 
the preaching of Christ in His personality : 

1. At once the uniqueness of this personality, trans- 
fixes our attention. He is the God-man; He is the 
man-God. As man, He is God ; as God, He is man. 
Here we have personality in its most complex organ- 
ization. We have personality at the same time in its 
most real, its most energetic, its most vital manifesta- 
tion. Here, if anywhere, we may hope, will the mys- 
tery of personality be solved. Here, at last, we shall 
find its life-secret — that in personality, which imparts to 
life its sacredness, and to duty its divineness. I need 
not remind you of the difficulties which we encounter 
as we explore the realms of personality. 

You look at man — what do you see? On the one 
side his nature reaches so low down — he is so earthly 
in his affiliations, he is so bound up with his physical 
environment, he seems to be so much a part of the 
world of cause and effect — as to raise the question : 
whether any special spiritual significance attaches to 
man's being or destiny, whether personality is not after 
all a modification of matter. On the other hand, you 
look at personality in God, and you encounter diffi- 
culties which meet you from the opposite side. You 
carry personality up into the region of abstract infini- 
tude, and you are beset with metaphysical perplexities 
and contradictions — which suggest a doubt whether an 
Infinite Personality is possible. But you look at Christ 
and what do you see? Here you behold a personality 
which is so decisively, so unmistakably supernatural, 
that it is impossible to regard it as a mere phase of 



372 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

natural development — a personality which is inexplic- 
able on any materialistic hypothesis. Here is a con- 
sciousness which loses itself in the infinite. Here is a 
Being using the personal pronoun I, who addresses 
the Father as Thou, who speaks of Himself and the 
Father, as We, who is at the same time, so completely 
identified with our human experience, who touches at 
so many points our common human consciousness, that 
all metaphysical difficulties vanish in His presence. 
Here, in a word, is a Being who unites in Himself all 
the attributes of a human personality, with all the 
attributes of Deity. Every instinct of our tempted 
humanity, clings to Him as our Brother. Every in- 
stinct of our redeemed humanity, cries out to Him as 
our God. What is the inference? Necessarily, that 
God in His infinite life, is a person, and that man in 
his finite life is a person. By His mere personality, 
by the reality of His personality, Christ vindicates the 
right, the dignities, the prerogatives of personality in 
the realms alike of the Infinite and of the finite. In 
preaching this personality, we provide the surest anti- 
dote to the negations of materialistic, agnostic, panthe- 
istic doubt touching this fundamental fact. 

2. Look again for a moment at the expressiveness 
of this Christ-personality. We have in it the concrete 
embodiment of the greatest spiritual realities, such as, 
apart from Christianity, would exist for us simply as 
abstractions. He personalizes for us the great divine 
forces of the Universe. Let us look at one or two 
of these. 

To the modern intellect, there is, I suppose, no force 
more overwhelming in its impressiveness and fascina- 
tion, than Lav/. The thinker of to-day lives under the 
reign of law, and glories in his chronology. "The 
perception of this" [reign of law,] says the Duke of 






SERMONS. 373 

Argyll, "is growing in the consciousness of men. It 
grows with the growth of knowledge, it is the delight, 
the reward, the goal of science. From science it passes 
into every domain of thought." Surely to the eye of 
science, Law is a mighty sublime force. You all recall 
Hooker's noble panegyric : "Of Law there can be no 
less acknowledged, than that her seat is the bosom of 
God, her voice the harmony of the world. All things 
in heaven and earth do her homage, the very least as 
feeling her care, the greatest as not exempted from her 
power, both angels and men and creatures of what con- 
dition soever, though each in different sort and manner, 
yet all with uniform consent admiring her, as the 
mother of their peace and joy." But you cannot help 
observing how much of the dignity and impressiveness 
of this eulogy, as well as of its rhetorical stateliness 
and glow, comes from its personification of law. It is 
no blind, impersonal force, which is here portrayed 
before us ; it is the Queen of the universe, the mother 
of our peace and joy, whose tender care of the least 
and the greatest, combined with her awe-inspiring 
power, commands our homage and admiration. How 
much more winning is such a representaton of Law, 
than that which science idolizes ; that inexorable im- 
personal fatality, which executes its changeless decree, 
without love, or pity, or remorse. Before this latter 
you tremble — you cannot love it. And yet, where the 
law is not loved, there can be no true moral perfection. 
To obey the law, only because you fear it — to obey it 
when perchance, indeed, you hate it, that is to be a 
slave. Hooker's law, one could love — if such law 
there were ; but alas, it is only an allegory. There is 
no such Queen, there is no such mother. Have we 
then no impersonation of law ? Let us see — what says 
the Book? "In the beginning was the Word— and 



374 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

the Word was with God — and the Word was God. The 
same was in the beginning with God. All things were 
made by [through] Him, and without Him was not 
anything made that hath been made. In Him was life, 
and the life was the light of men." Or, according to 
the margin of the revised version, "That which hath 
been made was life in Him." What is this Word — 
this Logos ? The term explains itself — it is the expres- 
sion of the Divine Thought, the Divine Intelligence, 
the Infinite Reason, as we see it voiced in the life, in 
the order, harmony, movements of the universe. But 
what is this Infinite Reason? It is no impersonal prin- 
ciple — no It. The Apostle describing the Logos, says 
he, him — not It, Nay, more, he goes on to say: 
"And the Word became flesh (became man), and dwelt 
among us full of grace and truth." Here we have, 
Law Incarnate, the Divine Law, speaking, acting, 
moving among men ; overflowing with grace and truth 
and glory, as of the only begotten of the Father ; 
crowned with the majesty of an absolute authority. 
The Supreme authority for man must ever be a Su- 
preme Will ; not a letter, not a force, not a mere im- 
pulse or instinct, but a person, in whose every word is 
the thunder might of God. "One is your Master, 
even Christ." 

" We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus as Lord." 
"Ye have heard that it was said to them of old time, 
thou shalt not kill — but I say unto you." "I came 
not to destroy the law, but to fulfill— to fill up its out- 
line, to vivify, to energize it, make it a thing — nay, 
rather a being — of life and power." 

" In His life, the law appears, 
Drawn out in living characters." 

The whole law is summed up in love. Where will 
you find love? Where, if not in Christ? What is 



SERMONS. 375 

love? What but Christ? "We love because He first 
loved." In Him is the possibility of love, in Him is 
the inspiration of love, He is the Law of love. You 
ask, what of the Decalogue ? I answer, it is an invaluable, 
Divine epitome of duty. Yet the Bible itself argues 
that the New Covenant is better than the Old, in that 
it writes the law, not on tables of stone, but on the 
living tablets of the heart ; and that the law on the heart 
is Christ in the heart. In the same line of thought, 
we might show that Christ is virtue personified. For 
ages, philosophy has exercised itself about the ques- 
tion : what is virtue ? We may doubt whether the final 
answer has yet been found, we cannot doubt, however, 
that the more of Christ is put into the solution, the 
more satisfactory will it be. Take the idea of man- 
hood: what is man? You listen to the rhapsody of 
Hamlet : ' ' what a piece of work is a man ; how noble 
in reason ; how infinite in faculties ; in form and mov- 
ing how express and admirable ; in action how like an 
angel ; in apprehension how like a God ; the beauty of 
the world! the paragon of animals!" The description 
dazzles you perhaps, but leaves no permanent impres- 
sion or inspiration. The next moment you are tempted 
to ask with the same Hamlet, "To me, what is this 
quintessence of dust ?" You turn to the inspired ac- 
count of man's creation. "God said, let us create man 
in our image, after our likeness" — or read Paul's defini- 
tion — "Man is the image and glory of God." Ah! 
you say, " here is something much more definite and 
satisfactory " — but alas : this is a world of sin, a world 
of moral wreck and ruin. The image of God is shat- 
tered and buried in the debris of the awful catastrophe, 
where will you find the Divine man? You look to this 
one and to that one, whom the world has called great 
— to its sages and heroes, its avatars and apotheoses. 



376 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

But no, each one is a broken mirror, marred beyond 
recognition. But in Christ you see the image, aye, the 
very image of God — His glory, aye, the effulgence of 
the Divine glory. Here you see humanity at its highest, 
its largest, its best. The good in each and in all, in Him 
reaches its best, and that in a form to compel admira- 
tion, and to inspire imitation. 

Look at the practical ends, the ideals of life, what 
shall we aim at in living? You say: we have various 
answers — Perfection, Nobleness, Symmetry, Self-culture, 
Self-effacement: live for greatness, live for glory, live 
for love. Well and good ! But after all, how shadowy, 
how vague, how ineffectual are these ideals as motive 
powers for the heart? But what says the Gospel? 
"Live for Christ!" "Live so as to* gain Christ — to 
realize Christ, to make Him yours, to show Him forth, 
to glorify Him, to lose yourself in Him !" You live 
not for an abstraction, but for a Person, and in living 
for that Person, you live for greatness, goodness, power, 
love, self-humiliation, self-exaltation, life — finding the 
life in losing it. Here the ideal and the real meet. In 
Christ, the idealist, the mystic, the man of contempla- 
tion, the realist, the scientist, the man of action— each 
finds his goal. "As many of you as were baptized into 
Christ, did put on Christ." "There can be neither 
Jew nor Greek, there can be neither bond nor free, 
there can be no male and female, for ye are all one man 
in Christ Jesus." This leads to the remark: 

3. That to preach Christ, is to preach character. 
The poet tells us that "the proper study of mankind is 
man." Most assuredly it is the central study. None 
is more attractive, more popular, more universal. Cul- 
ture, itself, has taken the name of humanity. History, 
biography, poetry, fiction, owe much of their hold upon 
us to the charm of character, the spell of heroism. 



SERMONS, 377 

The heroic song of Homer, the dramatic verse of Shakes- 
peare, the historic page of Tacitus, or Gibbon, never 
lose their fascination. The page which photographs a 
human soul, is immortal. The throb of human passion 
thrills the ages. The crystallization of a tear outshines 
and outlasts the diamond. In preaching Christ, the 
pulpit appeals to this universal and imperishable in- 
stinct. It presents a heroic, a Divine Ideal, such as no 
imagination has conceived ; a character, the charm of 
which is deathless, which, the better it is known, the 
more it fascinates, from age to age. The world is never 
wearied with the study of the personality and the life 
of Jesus. The growing light of the centuries, but re- 
veals more and more its impressiveness, its beauty, its 
power. 

4. No less true is it, that to preach character, is to 
preach Christ. This is implied in what has been said 
already, respecting the abstract idea of character. To 
the question: "What is character?" there is, as we 
have seen, but one definite, tangible answer. You get 
the clearest, fullest analysis of character in the analysis 
of Christ. But, so also, where we come to the analy- 
sis of individual character. A large part of the Bible, 
is biography. Christ as the centre of the Bible, is the 
centre of its biography. The lives of the Saints are so 
many broken lights of the "Strong Son of God, Im- 
mortal Love." The key of the life of Abraham, of 
Moses, of Joshua, of David, of Paul, Peter, John, is 
found in the story of the Man of Nazareth— and so of 
the saints of all ages. It is the Christ in Augustine, 
the Christ in Bernard, the Christ in a Kempis, the 
Christ in Luther, in Zinzendorf, in Fenelon, in Wesley, 
that gives the burning focus of life. He preaches 
Christ, who preaches the reflections of Christ in the life 
of His Church, who interprets His thought and spirit, 



37& LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

in their purifying and illuminating agency, in the beauty 
and character of His beloved. So, also, the antichrist, 
the mystery of iniquity, finds its key in the life of 
Christ. The false is known by the true, while at the 
same time, it serves in part to the better definition of 
the true. The Pharaohs, the Herods, the Pilates, the 
Iscariots, the Neros of history, the abnormal develop- 
ments of character, are to be measured and judged in 
the light which falls on them from the Holy One. The 
revelation of holiness is the revelation of sin. Christ 
is the ultimate test of manhood, the touchstone of 
character. By Him every man must stand or fall. 
" Behold this child is set for the falling and rising up of 
many in Israel, and for a sign which is spoken against, 
that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed." 

II. But, I remark, in the next place, that the preach- 
ing of Christ is an element of universal significance in 
the proclamation of Revealed Truth. Christ says of 
Himself: "I am the Truth." Let us dwell for a mo- 
ment on the value of such a personalization of Divine 
Truth. 

i. A personalized idea is, as we have already seen, 
far more definite and palpable to men's apprehensions, 
than an abstraction. Personality translates the idea 
into form, materializes it into substance. The diction- 
ary of heroism is found in the life of a hero. You 
learn the grammar of patriotism in the self-devotion of 
a Leonidas, a Tell, a Washington, or a Lincoln. Im- 
perialism finds its exponent in the Caesar. The Papacy 
has its living embodiment in a Hildebrand or a Boni- 
face. Christianity has its own complete expression in 
the Christ. 

2. But, still more, in the person the idea comes before 
us not in fixed, rigid outline, but in its living develop- 
ment. Here you have not merely the statics of truth, 



SERMONS. 379 

but its dynamics. A true Christian theology is not the 
anatomy of a skeleton, but the biology of a Divine 
Life. Electricity, slumbering in the cloud, or in the 
earth, is one thing. Electricity, riding upon the storm, 
flashing in lightning from east to west, leaping in thun- 
der from crag to crag, is quite another thing. So truth 
in the Book, is, indeed, power, but truth in the life, 
truth in the miracle, truth in the Cross, is the power of 
God. The truth speaking in the Book is mighty to 
save, because it is the Truth which died on the Cross. 
3. Again, in its personal developments, the idea 
presents itself in its organic relations to other ideas. 
Here the statements of Paul apply: " As the body is 
one, and hath many members, and all the members of 
the body being many, are one body, so also is Christ. 
The eye cannot say to the hand, I have no need of 
thee, or again, the head to the feet, I have no need of 
you. Nay, much rather those members of the body, 

which seem to be more feeble, are necessary 

and our uncomely parts have more abundant comeli- 
ness, whereas our comely parts have no need. But 
God tempered the body together." You dissect any 
joint or organism by itself on the table, and you 
have a far less vivid idea of its uses than you have 
by studying it in its action, as part of a larger organ- 
ism. To understand the working of the brain, you 
must understand the anatomy and functions of the 
nervous system. So, conversely, to understand the nerv- 
ous system, you must understand the brain. Fully to 
measure the brain and nervous system, you must under- 
stand the action of heart, lungs, vein, muscle, cell, 
tissue, in a word, of the entire physical man. So in 
personality, above all in Christ, you have the living 
organism of the truth, and you have the organic com- 
plements of each particular truth or member. Thus, 



380 LLEWELYN 10 AN EVANS. 

if you were to study the grace of humility by itself, 
you would be liable to take a very one-sided view of it, 
possibly (with the old heathen world) to despise it, as 
a belittling of manhood. Its true significance and 
beauty are to be seen only in the living combinations 
of a Perfect Life. Mark, for example, in Christ, the 
Divine dignity of humility. His very meekness and 
lowliness attest His Kingship. "Take my yoke upon 
you, for I am meek and lowly in heart.' ' 

4. Once more, the impersonated idea gathers about 
itself a more vital human interest. Men are generally 
much more interested in personal than in impersonal 
entities. Even the lovers of abstract thought find their 
interest in it enlivened and enriched through more in- 
timate acquaintaince with the personal channels through 
which it has flowed. The thoughts of Philo or Spinoza, 
have a fresher interest even for the philosopher, v/hen 
read in the lives of the men. In like manner this 
Divine philosophy which we call Christianity, arrests the 
attention, and commands the interest of men, as no 
other philosophy has ever done, because of the trans- 
cendent grandeur of the personality through which it 
speaks to us. Let us for a moment contemplate this 
Personality as the embodiment of Divine Truth. "I 
am the Truth." What does this declaration mean? 

I. It signifies first of all, and speaking comprehen- 
sively, that Christianity as a system, means nothing 
apart from Christ. There are those who would resolve 
Christianity into a creed, an abstraction, a code of laws, 
a sermon or a parable, a poetic idyl, a social revolu- 
tion. Not so; Christianity means Christ; and Christ, 
not as a preacher, not as an ethical idealist, not as a 
stern legislator, not as a reformer, but Christ in all 
that Pie is — Christ as the Son of God, as the Son of 
Man, as the Savior of the world : Christ as Prophet, 



\ 



SERMONS. 38I 

Priest, King of humanity. In Christianity, Christ is 
everything. There is no dogma apart from Christ. 
Its ethics have their conscience only in the cross. Its 
laws have their " categorical imperative," only in the 
authority of the Master. Its social creed has its inspi- 
ration only in the spirit of the Carpenter of Nazareth. 
Its uplifting forces have their nerve center in His sub- 
lime passion. Its philosophy has its Divine Light in 
the Divine Heart, from which it flows. One more 
creed in the world, one more school, one more system 
of morals, one more philosophy, one more Utopia — 
what were that? There is enough ; more than enough 
of all that. The world is crowded with precepts and 
rules. The air is thick with speculations and bubbles. 
The day is full of dogmas, and the night is full of 
dreams. What we need is substance, reality, the liv- 
ing tongue of fire, the living heart of flame, the mag- 
netic quickening touch, the pulsating throb, the saving 
grasp of an Almighty Hand ; the Creative Power, the 
Resurrection Power, which comes from personal con- 
tact with a personal God. 

Christianity means that, or it is nothing. 

2. And what is true of Christianity as a whole, is 
true of each particular truth in Christianity. Every gos- 
pel truth means Christ. Apart from Christ, it is barren, 
impossible, or false. The subject is too vast for more 
than one or two brief hints. Let us take by way of 
illustration, the three great truths, which Kant has de- 
clared to be the cardinal principles of religion : God, 
freedom, and immortality. 

(1.) Take the truth respecting God. How vivid and 
practical does this become in Jesus Christ ! I have al- 
ready adverted briefly to the significance of Christ's 
personality as a factor in His revelation of God. The 
man who has known the personal Christ, has seen, in 



382 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

His truest Shekinah, the personal God. "He that 
hath seen me, hath seen the Father." "No man hath 
seen God, the only begotten son [or God only begotten] 
which is in the bosom of the Father, He hath declared 
Him " — exegeted God, drawn Him out, and set Him 
forth, so that He may be personally apprehended by 
men. But take another aspect of the Divine Being. 
Take the Infinity of God. In the abstract conception 
of God, this Infinity is a metaphysical notion which is 
beset with many speculative and logical embarrassments. 
So serious are these embarrassments, that the late la- 
mented Dr. Henry Smith, of this Seminary, in his 
recently published critique of Spinoza's Ethics, has felt 
called upon to repudiate the philosophical infinity, as 
an unscriptural notion, in its application to God. From 
this position, indeed, I must withhold my own assent. 

I believe, however, that our earnest and brilliant Pro- 
fessor was quite correct in teaching that the metaphys- 
ical side of this Divine Quality is not the one which the 
Scriptures make prominent. The Divine Infinity, as we 
see it in Christ, is certainly not the transcendental infi- 
nity of the logician, but the moral, the spiritual infinity 
of Supreme Perfection — a positive, mark it, rather than 
a negative reality. Here, for example, we see Truth 
as an infinite quantity, Truth as the field of Omniscience, 
Truth as the product of the Divine Thought, Truth as 
a Divine Infinite Force in the moral history of the uni- 
verse. In Christ we see the Infinite of Holiness, the Infi- 
nite of Righteousness ; that is, we see these qualities as 
omnipotent energies, put forth for the suppression of 
evil, and for the restoration of spiritual order and peace. 
In Christ we see the Infinite of Patience, the Infinite of 
Pity, the Infinite of Love ; these qualities, that is, as 
moral omnipotencies, with an energy mightier than 
light or gravity, with a potency more subtle than the 



SERMONS. 383 

sweet influences of the Pleiades, winning a lost world 
to its fealty to the eternal throne. For such a stupen- 
dous manifestation of God, no thought, no word, of 
smaller compass can suffice than this — Infi?iite — Infinite 
in every possible sense of the word. And this Infinite 
means Christ. 

(2.) Take Kant's second cardinal principle of religion, 
Freedom. Man is free, He stands outside the chain of 
causality and necessity. This must be so, we believe, 
if religion, nay if morality, is to exist at all. But as an* 
abstract dogma, how difficult to establish this freedom. 
How liable we are in discoursing about it to become 
lost in the wandering mazes of ' ' fixed fate, free will, 
fore-knowledge absolute." " He must be free !" 

Aye, but nevertheless he is in bondage. But, you 
say, ' ' he is conscious of responsibility, and of guilt for 
wrong-doing." Very true; the argument is in itself 
conclusive. But how difficult, nay, how impossible, to 
make this sense of guilt practically effective. Man, 
alas ! is a sinner, and one most disastrous curse of sin is 
that it deadens the sense of guilt ; and one effect of this 
insensibility, is to weaken the force of the argument for 
responsibility and freedom. But what do we find in 
Christ ? 

First of all, in His own personality, representing as 
He does the most perfect humanity, we see a practical 
illustration of the Law of Liberty, which puts its reality 
beyond question. Next we find, that in the presence of 
Christ, and under the active influence of His personality 
and love, sin becomes a reality, human responsibilty 
becomes a reality, and therewith human freedom be- 
comes a reality. Finally in active spiritual union with 
Him, through the participation of the Divine Nature, 
which comes through the incorporation of our souls 
with Him, man is lifted above all the limitations of his 



384 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

sinful estate into a royal realm of liberty and power, 
wherein he walks, wearing on his brow the crown of a 
son and heir of God. 

"The law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus made 
me free from the law of sin and of death." 

(3) Take the third Kantian principle — Immortality. 
There is, I doubt not, a distinct witness to our immor- 
tality, impressed upon the very constitution of our 
being. There is an ineradicable instinct, which tells 
us that as our personal identity is independent of the 
mutations of the body in life, so it is independent of 
its final dissolution in death. A man can not, without 
doing violence to the facts of his being, bring himself 
to believe that death ends all. And yet, it must be 
confessed, there are difficulties connected with our be- 
lief in immortality, which make it exceedingly desirable 
that some more sure witness should be found to it. 
We need that this vague instinct should be exalted 
into a clear and well defined hope ; that this hope 
should be strengthened and intensified into a steadfast 
and vigorous belief; that this belief should be organ- 
ized into a positive, practical force, in shaping and up- 
lifting the life of the present. This service only Christ 
can render us. He is Himself a living witness of im- 
mortality — "I am the Living One, and I was dead, 
and behold I am alive for evermore." He demon- 
strates the congruities of manhood and immortality. In 
Him we see a type and grade of life of which immor- 
tality is the worthy sequel and crown. " He brought 
life and immortality into light" — first life, then immor- 
tality. Men have lost their faith in immortality, be- 
cause they have lost their faith in life. Christ reveals 
to us a life which is worth living now, and which, be- 
cause it is worth living now, is worth living forever. 
Note how, that here again, Christ brings to us a con- 



SERMONS. 385 

ception of immortality of far higher value and potency 
than any merely metaphysical notion. What do we 
learn from metaphysics ? Mark the word Immortality f 
the negation of death, the negation that is of a nega- 
tion. But what does Christ give? Eternal Life. 
"Because I live, ye shall live" — a Christ-life which is 
the necessitating cause of the human life ; a human life 
which is the responsive parallel of the Christ-life. The 
life which Christ gives and inspires, is a life which re- 
quires immortality, as its scope and outcome. Thus 
we see, that in Christ alone, do we have the certitude 
and fulness of religious truth. I do not say that 
Kant preaches his religious trinity altogether in vain, 
but something more is needed to silence the world's 
doubts, and to satisfy the needs of humanity. Whether 
we seek to know God, to realize freedom, to be as- 
sured of immortality, Christ is the Truth. In Him 
we have not a truth, not some truth, not certain 
truths, not truth and truths about God — but in Him 
we have The Truth, the Reality. He is God, He is 
Freedom, He is Eternal Life. 

When we advance to the truths which are more 
specifically characteristic of the Christian System, we 
see still more clearly how the substance of all these 
Divine Realities, inheres in Christ. Let me give by 
way of illustration, one brief passage from Paul. Mark 
in the reading of it, how every fact, every reality on 
which the Apostle touches is identified with Christ. 
"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ who hath blessed us with every spiritual bless- 
ing in the heavenly places in Christ, even as He chose 
us in Him, before the foundation of the world, that we 
should be holy and without blemish before Him in 
love ; having fore-ordained us unto adoption as sons 
through Jesus Chkist unto Himself, according to the 



386 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

good pleasure of His will, to the praise of the glory of 
His grace, which He freely bestowed on us in the 
Beloved, in whom we have our redemption through 
his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, accord- 
ing to the riches of His grace, which He made to 
abound toward us in all wisdom and prudence ; having 
made known unto us the mystery of His will, accord- 
ing to His good pleasure, which He purposed in him, 
unto a dispensation of the fulness of the times, to sum 
up all things in Christ, the things in the heavens, and 
the things upon the earth, in Him, I say, in whom also 
we were made a heritage, having been fore-ordained 
according to the purpose of Him who worketh all 
things after the counsel of His will, to the end that we 
should be unto the praise of His glory ; we who had 
before hoped in Christ, in whom ye also having heard 
the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, in 
whom having also believed, ye were sealed with the 
Holy Spirit of promise, which is an earnest of our in- 
heritance, unto the redemption of God's own posses- 
sion, unto the praise of His glory." How thoroughly 
en-Christed is the whole chain of redemptive acts and 
processes which here stretches out before us. Christ 
is the Alpha of the series, and the Omega of the series, 
and every link lays hold on Him. And so, through- 
out the Epistle, at every step and turn, fifty times 
or more: " In Christ," " In Him," "In Whom," 
"through," "because of," "with," "for," "unto," 
"into" Christ. If now we were to analyze each of 
these specifications in its own connection, we should 
find boundless vistas and horizons opening before us. 
Look at the central statement of the passage just read ; 
the general purpose of God is in Christ. The regnant 
idea of the Divine Plan as it runs on with increasing 
volumes through the ages, is Christ. The controling 



SERMONS. 387 

law of the movement of the world is the thought, the 
life, the will, the movement, which we see imperson- 
ated in Christ. He is the archetype of the universe. 
In Him all things were created. In Him all things 
subsist, cohere. All the forces of cohesion, interadap- 
tation, co-operation, and correlation, have their center 
in Him. In Him all things culminate. What Faul 
calls the anakephalaiosis, the summation, the unifica- 
tion, the final expression of Being in absolute harmony 
and perfect beauty, is to be realized in Him: "To 
sum up all things in Christ." As Whittier calls Him 
the flower of man and God, so we may call Him the 
grand consummate flower of the universe. 

So again, of the Particular Purposes of God. Be- 
lievers are chosen, fore-ordained, adopted, constituted 
God's personal property — all in Christ. Those myste- 
rious redemptive processes, which our theologies refer 
to the Divine Sovereignty, were all "in Christ." 
What does this thought imply? They are not to be 
regarded as arbitrary processes, partial, exclusive, cold, 
hard, but in them all the attributes of God act in 
joyous and loving harmony. Nay, more, all these at- 
tributes thus act, as we see them impersonated in 
Christ — the same unerring insight as in Christ, the same 
comprehensive wisdom, the same impartial righteous- 
ness, the same discriminative purity, the same unspeak- 
able gentleness, the same transcendent perfection. The 
fore-ordaining love of eternity is the redemptive love 
of time. The heart which shaped the counsels of the 
God-head, is the heart which bled on Calvary. Elec- 
tion, fore-ordination, justification, adoption, remission, 
re-unification — all are integral acts of the one great re- 
demptive process, throbbing from everlasting to ever- 
lasting, with one eternal, universal purpose. In elec- 
tion, itself, there is the same largeness of benevolence, 



388 LLEWELYN IOAN EVANS. 

the same tender yearning of pity, the same tearful an- 
guish in respect to the lost, that we see in the whole 
redemptive work of Jesus ; the same that thrills the 
soul on Olivet, in Gethsemane, on Calvary. For all is 
in Christ, and we are not to interpret Christ by the Di- 
vine Decrees, but to interpret the Divine Decrees by 
Christ. 

We are only on the threshold of our theme, but we 
can not particularized any further in this direction. 
Nor can we stop to consider at all, the third division 
of our theme : Preaching Christ as the Life. 

The many practical applications of our theme we 
must also pass by. Let me simply, in conclusion, 
urge you, my brethren, to keep this subject distinctly 
and constantly before your minds. Let it shape your 
thoughts and studies, your work and life, in the 
Seminary. 

As preaching Christ is to be the business of your 
ministerial life, so let learning Christ be the business 
of your Seminary life. Let every lesson be learned at 
His feet. Let every deed of service be performed 
under His eye. Let every heart-throb beat with your 
bosom close to His. Seek Him in every study. Seek 
Him in every duty. Seek Him in every truth you 
learn, in every fact you master, in every ability you 
acquire. Seek Him in every struggle with self, with 
sin, with the world. Seek Him in every experience of 
sorrow or joy, of success or failure. Make Him "the 
light of all your day, the master light of all your see- 
ing." Let every thought be Christ. Let every prayer 
be Christ. Let every purpose be Christ. Let every 
sermon be Christ. Let every action be Christ. And 
may it be yours, each one of you, to say, now, here- 
after, and forever: for me to live is Christ. And to 
Him be the glory, world without end. Amen. 



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